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COHTAINrNG 



ONE HUNDRED ARTICLES, 



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HAVE BEEN PRINTED IN ANY OF THE FORMER VOLUMES. 



TANTIS SI NUGIS POPULUS GAUDET.UR INEPTIS, 
QUID VET AT ET NOSMET? 



J67 

° HonUon : 

Printed by Henry JReynell, 21, Piccadilly, 

FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, AND ORME, 39, PATERNOSTER-ROW, 
AND C. CHAPPLE, 66 } PALL-MALL. 

1807. 






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tmp96 031324 



PREFACE. 



To those who have not seen the preceding parts of 
this alphabetical Miscellany, perhaps it may be necessary to ob- 
serve, that learned research, profound reflection, and acute criticism, 
are not its characteristic features. The object in view is, to catch 
ere it perish the trifle of the minute ; to select whatever appeared 
curious, amusing, or applicable to the purposes of human life ; in a 
word, to make a hook which maybe perused without injuring our 
morals or corrupting our taste. 

The Collection here presented to the public is not wholly a com- 
pilation ; at the same time, it cannot be denied that its pretensions 
to originality are slender : it may however afford to common readers 
a few hours, salutary relaxation from the toil of dissipation, the pres» 
sure of care, and the fatigues of business. 

The Editor embraces the present opportunity, having no other, of 
thanking some anonymous friend, he has reason to think a female 
friend, for a valuable literary present ; the books of which it con- 
sists, although he had long and ardently wished for them, neither 
money nor diligent enquiry could procure. En ilia ilia quam scepe > 
diu, sedfrustra optavu 

Each of the former volumes having been dedicated, the present 
work is inscribed to the Inhabitants of Great Britain and 
Ireland $ whom the Editor warmly congratulates on still retaining 
our exalted position as an independant kingdom, which has so long 
defied and still successfully defies the power of France, 

Whilst 



PREFACE. 

Whilst the insatiable ambition of the Emperor Napoleon is so 
artfully extending the feudal system of military tenures over the 
European continent, and lavishing on tributary kings crowns, scep- 
tres and dominions, we have not lost one inch or a single iota of our 
hereditary territory, or our ancient renown. 

The Editor looks forward with confident hope that the Almighty 
will continue to inspire us with the same good sense to see our true 
interest, the same fortitude and public spirit, to continue our glorious 
and triumphant career; firmly convinced that however perplexed, 
complicated and unpropitious continental prospects may appear, every 
thing must yitld to resolution animated by proper motives, and that 
ultimately all things will tend to justify the ways of Providence, the 
safety and honour of Great Britain \ that stripped of ships, seamen, 
colonies, commerce and naval supplies, the Gallic Monarch perceiving 
his laurels rapidly withering and his sworcl unproductive, will ulti- 
mately listen to moderate counsels and liberal policy, and never 
imagine that the descendants of the heroes of Agincourt and Cressy, 
who proudly demolished the universal monarchy of Lewis the Four- 
teenth, will ever submit to that meditated degradation in the founder 
of a new dynasty. 



MISCELLANEOUS COLLECTIONS* 



AGNODICE, an Athenian 
female, who appears to 
have been endued with a con- 
siderable portion of keen sen- 
sibility towards the afflictions 
and calamities of others : with 
this amiable disposition she 
united qualities, which persons 
of that laudable description do 
not always possess ; good sense 
to direct^ and consummate reso- 
lution for carrying into execu- 
tion, the singular efforts she 
made to alleviate the sufferings 
of her fellow creatures i for in 
the path chosen by her, benevo- 
lence could not be exercised with- 
out difficulty and danger. 

This excellent woman saw 
with concern numbers of her 
own sex dying or undergoing 
extreme and frequently unneces- 
sary risk and protracted pain in 
child-birth, because they dreaded 
calling in professional assistance, 
or resorted to it when too late : 
for at the period to which I 

VOL. IV. 



refer, there was a positive law 
in Athens, that men only should 
study and practice this or any 
other branch of the medical art, 

Agnodice could not rest con- 
tented till she found a remedy 
for this evil, which struck at the 
root of population, laid a cruel 
tax on the first great law of na- 
ture, and overwhelmed with tor- 
ture, agony, and death, the fair** 
est, the most modest, and often 
the worthiest of women; whilst 
Certain help was loudly called 
for and readily administered to 
vicious audacity and callous un- 
concern. 

Inspired by the importance of 
her object and animated by the 
humanity of her purpose, she 
alledged a call from a sick friend 
at a considerable distance to 
account for her absence, and 
procuring the dress of a man, at- 
tended as a pupil at the schools 
where the knowledge she wished 
for was dispensed, 
b A* 



AGNODICE. 



As improvement is generally 
rapid when the desire for it is 
ardent, Agnodice soon acquired 
the requisite qualifications, and 
in the assumed character and 
dress of a man afforded substan- 
tial relief to many women, who 
had been deterred by modesty, 
by fear, and other motives, from 
applying to male professors ; the 
secret of her being a woman 
having been previously imparted 
to those, who£> situation ren- 
dered her assistance necessary. 

But the gratitude of her pa- 
tients or the selfishness of her 
opponents, who found they were 
losing business, led to a dis- 
covery of this meritorious impos- 
ture. 

They circulated reports injuri- 
ous to the character of the young 
practitioner, and ignorant of the 
truth, insisted that he was fre- 
quently called in when in fact 
no medical aid was necessary; 
and that a dangerous and illicit 
intercourse was carried on under 
the convenient plea of asking 
advice. 

Agnodice was tried before the 
Areopagus, a court so called 
from their assembling on a hill 
of that name near Athens ; and 
by a party of jealous husbands 
and envious rivals this excellent 
and intrepid woman was con- 
demned to die; an unjust and 
inhuman sentence, which would 



have been carried into execution, 
if the prisoner had not convinced 
her judges, in a way I will not 
describe, that it was impossible 
she could be guilty of the crime 
alledged against her. 

Disappointed in their purpose, 
her adversaries next endeavoured 
to destroy her, for having violated 
an express law, mentioned at the 
beginning of this article, which 
prohibited her sex from studying 
any branch of the medical pro- 
fession. On this charge, the 
law being positive, her judges 
paused, when the court was im- 
mediately filled with a crowd of 
women, many of whom had re- 
ceived comfort andmanyof them 
life from her well-timed aid. 

They boldly and loudly ap- 
pealed to the feelings, the reason, 
and the interest of the persons 
they addressed. After a short 
debate, Agnodice was honour- 
ably acquitted and the obnox- 
ious law revoked. Such was 
the salutary triumph of merit 
and good sense over selfishness 
and absurd prejudice. 

Since the period at which the 
transaction I have related took 
place, the opinions of the world 
on this subject appear to have 
taken an opposite direction; the 
art, which Agnodice took so • 
generous and effectual a in'"*Y>d 
of acquiring, is now almost uni- 
versally practised by men. 



ALEXANDER DE MEDICIS. 



Yet it has been doubted, 
whether in nine cases out often — 
50 kind a guardian have we in 
the superintending providence of 
God — whether in nine cases out 
of ten, Nature, with trifling aid, 
does not conduct the business 
with safety ; but the fear, perhaps 
a natural one in the breast of 
each woman, that she may be 
that unfortunate tenth, has se- 
cured, and still secures to the 
modern accoucheur a large and 
profitable proportion of patients. 

This subject, at a certain time, 
laid the foundation of a long, a 
violent, but not a very edifying 
or delicate controversy; and when 
the passion for collecting, like 
all my passions, raged uncon- 
trouled by prudence and com- 
mon sense, I remember the 
table on which I am writing 
groaning under the load of vi- 
rulence, invective, and misrepre- 
sentation, poured forth on the 
occasion ; abuse supplied the 
place of reasoning, and declama- 
tion that of argument. 

The point in dispute is now 
gone by; much that was written 
and much that was said has 
escaped my memory; the little 
that remains impressed on my 
mind is, that their adversaries 
accused professional men of a 
want of patience, of doing too 
much, and of sometimes taking 
improper advantage of their in- 
B 2 



tercourse with women. In the 
indiscriminate audacity of anony- 
mous licentiousness, three of the 
most eminent men of that day were fc 
branded with the indecorous 
names of Doctor Pocus, Doctor 
Maulus, and Doctor Macgripus. 

The enemies of the accou- 
cheurs did not forget an instance, 
recorded I fear in Doctor's Com- 
mons and a court of justice, 
which had recently excited pub- 
lic notice and sympathy, in 
which an eminent man had se- 
duced a gentleman's wife from 
the arms of her husband. 

This and much more was al- 
ledged : it only proves that every 
confidential trust has been, and 
at fatal moments un propitious to 
human resolution and integrity, 
will be again abused. This, as 
I have frequently had occasion 
to observe, is an argument, which 
may be advanced against every 
thing pleasant and every thing 
useful in life. 

ALEXANDER DE ME- 
DICIS, first duke of Flo. 
rehce, descended from a wealthy 
commercial family long esta- 
blished in that city, whose his- 
tory has been, elaborately illus- 
trated and ingeniously adorned 
in the present day by an English 
provincial attorney. 

Alexander having been created 
a sovereign prince by the em- 
peror 



ALEXANDER DE MEDICIS. 



peror Charles the fifth, whose 
natural daughter he married, 
at the earnest request of his fellow 
citizens was accused of abusing 
the power and misapplying the 
wealth and influence he pos- 
sessed. 

Yet his crimes or his errors 
have been exaggerated by the 
malignity of those, who expected 
that the man, in whose elevation 
they had assisted, would become 
an humble instrument in the 
hands of ambitious and mer- 
cenary partizans. 

Finding themselves mistaken, 
estranged friendship, as is not 
uncommon in other contentions^ 
quickly verged to deadly hate; 
nocturnal meetings were held, 
a conspiracy was foimed, and 
the malcontents found means to 
corrupt and detach from his in- 
terests part of the duke's family. 

One of the conspirators, Phi- 
lip Strozzi, a native of Florence, 
rich and well born, is described 
as having acted on this occasion 
upon the purest principles of re- 
publican patriotism. 

As God only can read the 
human heart, I will not pretend 
to decide on the nature of the 
motives by which he was im- 
pelled ; but however ardent his 
zeal, firm his resolution, or dis- 
interested his views, the bloody 
means he tried did not produce 
the wished for purpose; they 



only served to introduce a more 
unrelenting despotism, and ul- 
timately overwhelmed his friends 
and himself in irrecoverable 
ruin and disgrace. 
. Indignant at seeing the place 
of his birth under the yoke of 
absolute power, he resolved to 
remove the duke. 

Taking advantage of his in- 
ordinate passion for women, 
under the pretence of an assig- 
nation from a female, whom he 
had long and vainly attempted to 
seduce, he enticed the prince to 
a sequestered spot, and stabbed 
him to the heart. 

The city immediately became 
a scene of confusion and warfare; 
but Alexander, with all his 
faults, having secured the at- 
tachment of a considerable num- 
ber of adherents, the conspirators 
were driven forth, and collect- 
ing in force near the suburbs^ 
an engagement took place, in 
which the friends of Strozzi 
were defeated. 

This unhappy man was not 
so fortunate as to meet with 
death in battle, that last con- 
solation of the wretched; he be- 
came the prisoner of a party 
exasperated by his recent assassi- 
nation of their sovereign. 

Perceiving the desperate cir- 
cumstances of his situation, -^d 
fearing that secrets prejudicial 
to his party might be forced 
from 



ALEXANDER DE MEDICIS. 



from human infirmity by torture, 
he resolved to elude the ven- 
geance of his enemies by suicide. 

Previous to inflicting on him- 
self the fatal stroke, Strozzi 
gave directions for the disposal 
of that portion of his effects 
which escaped the shipwreck of 
his fortune. 

The particulars of a will which 
he wrote in prison are related 
by Babzac, who saw it among 
the cabinet papers of the Frangi- 
pani family. 

" As it is probable,'* says the 
defeated republican in his last 
testament, " as it is probable 
that my remains will be ignomi- 
niously buried in the city of 
Florence, it is my last and earn- 
est request, that my children 
will find means of disinterring 
my body and procuring its con- 
veyance to Venice. 

" As it was not my happiness 
to live and die in a free city, I 
hope they will not refuse me the 
comfortable assurance at the 
hour of death, that my bones 
shall hereafter repose undisturbed 
in a land of liberty and beyond 
the reach and malice of my 
enemies." 

Strozzi little imagined, that 
what he-called the land of liberty, 
would in little more than two 
centuries from the time of his 
death be over- run and plundered 
by republican desperadoes, and 



finally be delivered over ly the 
heroes of liberty to an absolute 
monarch. 

The will concludes with the 
writer's throwing himself on the 
mercy of God, to pardon the 
crime of suicide, which he felt 
himself compelled to commit, 
in order to preserve his honor in- 
violate ; he trusts his life will be 
considered as sacrificed, however 
ineffectually, in defending the 
freedom of his country. 
. It is observed by a modern 
writer, who flourished at {he com- 
mencement of the French revo- 
lution, that if Brutus should 
meet with Strozzi in the Elysian 
fields, he would assuredly em- 
brace him as a genuine patriot 
and an honest republican, stimu- 
lated by motives similar to those, 
which induced the stern reformer 
of Rome to plant his dagger in 
the dictator's heart. 

The cordiality of their meet- 
ing I am not disposed to doubt; 
but if the murderer of Julius 
Csesar and the assassin of De 
Medicis could be informed how 
very little the crimes they com- 
mitted added to the liberty or the 
happiness of their country, but 
rather to the misery and oppres- 
sion of their fellow citizens, the 
Roman and the Florentine would 
probably confess their mistaken 
and inexpedient zeal, and own, 
that in their endeavours to re- 
move 



6 



ANDREW BORDE. 



move petty evil and imaginary 
grievance, they had introduced 
enormous and incurable mis- 
chief. Like the enchanter in 
fairy land, who to forward the 
private purposes of selfishness* 
ambition, pleasure, sensuality, or 
revenge, brought down on a de- 
voted country war, famine, 
pest, volcano, storm, and fire. 

ANDREW BORDE, or as 
he chose to write his name, 
ANDREAS PERFORATUS,by 

the same rule that plenum sed 
is latin for faU butt. 

This singular man, who, to 
use his own words, had travelled 
through and round about Christ- 
etidom and out of Christendom^ 
was born at Pevensey and 
educated at Winchester, where 
he practised as a physician in the 
middle part of the sixteenth cen- 
tury ; but extending his fame 
either by professional success, 
the strange books he published, 
or the eccentric habits of his 
life, he removed to London, be- 
came a fellow of the college and 
was appointed physician to king 
Henry the eighth. 

Having been a Carthusian 
monk in the early part of his 
life, he observed many of the 
severities and mortifications of 
that order after he had quitted 
it ; drinking water, wearing a 
shirt of hair- cloth, and placing 



his coffin and shroud on tressels 
at the foot of his bed. 

He more particularly set his 
face against marriage, insisting 
that celibacy was an indispen- 
sable duty in all who were or 
had been connected with any 
religious order. Acting under 
these convictions, he not only 
abstained from marriage himself, 
but coarsely attacked such of 
the clergy, dignified or others^ 
who presumed to marry. 

These and other acts of im- 
prudence drew on him the no- 
tice and censure of John Ponet, 
bishop of Winchester, who, 
consistently with his Calvinistic 
principles, had taken to himself 
a wife : after carefully watching 
the proceedings of the physician, 
the prelate at last imagined that 
he had laid himself open to 
an attack on the score of 
morals, for which he had so 
much valued himself, and this 
intermedler with other mens 
matters was served with a cita- 
tion from the ecclesiastical court 
and examined strictly before 
several justices of the peace. 

The enemies of Andrew, ex- 
asperated by the rudeness of his 
attacks, insisted that he con- 
verted his dwelling into a brothel 
and made his medical profession 
a cloak for lewdness and de- 
bauchery, enticing to his house 
many weak and many wicked 
women. 



ANDREW BORDE. 



women, under pretence of medi- 
cal consultation. 

This was touching the doctor 
' in a tender place, for he valued 
himself on chastity, and as a 
Carthtfsian, had assumed the 
name of, or been called by others, 
the virgin priest. 

Insisting that his accusers 
should confront and meet him 
face to face, he required of them 
to produce the persons with whom 
he was accused of carrying on 
this unhallowed intercourse; they 
readily named Magdalen Lambe, 
Alice Bowyer, and other noto- 
rious prostitutes. 

The persons named were di- 
rectly sent for, when Borde 
proved to the satisfaction of the 
magistrates, as well by ocular 
proof as their own confession, 
that these loose women had in^ 
deed visited him at secret hours, 
not for unlawful purposes, but 
to seek relief for certain loath- 
some diseases, by which their 
lives were not only endangered, 
but their countenances disfigured. 

The physician further appealed 
to the bishop, the magistrates, 
and all present, if it was pro- 
bable, that a man of common 
sense, taste, or discernment, 
who had a professional repu- 
tation, and ivho had already more 
than half disarmed his passions 
hy never having indulged them, 
he asked if it was likely, that 



such a person would risk his 
credit, the salvation of his soul, 
and the health of his body, by 
an illicit intercourse with ob- 
jects so miserable, so very un- 
likely to excite or gratify the 
passions. Having established his 
innocence by this convincing 
species of internal evidence, his 
enemies retired in confusion. 

The works of Borde are scarce 
and curious, not wholly void of 
amusement and information: of 
this description is 

An Introduction to Universal 
Knowledge; which teacheth a 
man to speak all languages, and 
know the fashion of all countries; 
written partly in verse and partly 
in prose, with wooden cuts ; one 
at the beginning exhibits a naked 
man with a piece of cloth lying 
on his arm and a pair of scissars 
in his hand, with a copy of verses 
underneath, beginning with the 
two following: — • 
I am an Englishman , and naked 

I stand here, 
Musing in my mind ivhat rai- 
ment I shall wear. 

London, 1542. 
The Breviary of Health; 
wherein a/e remedies for all 
diseases, and in which obscure" 
Greek, Latin, and other bar- 
barous terms are explained. 

London, 154". 

Next followed "The Merry 
Tales of the Madmen of Go- 
tham;" 



ANGUS FOY FLETCHER. 



thani;" this was accounted a 
mirthful and witty book. 

A right, pleasant, and merry 
History of the Miller of Abing- 
don. He also wrote on Prog- 
nostics and Urines. 

At length, after all his peregri- 
nations, he was imprisoned in 
the Fleet, where he died in 1549; 
having exposed himself to this 
penalty by persevering in his 
unruly attacks on married clergy- 
men ; apparently forgetting, that 
those who have no wives of 
their own are very apt to make 
use of the wives of other people. 

ANGUS FOY FLETCHER, 
an inhabitant of Glenor- 
chay, in the highlands of Scot- 
land, of whom a sketch has been 
given by a minister of that re- 
mote district, who united easy 
manners with piety and learning, 
but could pardon and pity a 
want of correct conduct and uni- 
form orthodoxy in others : I speak 
in the past tense, because seas 
and continents separating us 
prevent my ascertaining whether 
he is now living, and because 
at a certain time some of his 
neighbours thought and acted a 
little differently. 

Angus, with the particulars 
of whose birth, parentage, and 
education, we are not made ac- 
quainted, discovering an early 
relish, for solitude and a dis- 



taste for social intercourse, de- 
voted the whole of his time and 
attention to fishing and shooting, 
as well for the purpose of in- 
dulging bis favourite propensity, 
as for exercise, amusement, and 
procuring the means of subsist- 
ence. 

At a distance from any neigh- 
bourhood, with his dog and gun, 
a dirk and spear, a belted plaid 
and hrogs, he built his hut and 
resided in the wildest and most 
mountainous parts of Glenorchay 
and Rannoch. 

Depending wholly for food 
on what he caught or killed, and 
the produce of a few goats, he 
ranged over hill, heath, and 
forest, and returning to his little 
flock in the evening, drove them 
into his hut, feasted on the pro- 
duce of the day, then stretching 
himself at length on a little dry 
grass with his humble com- 
panions, he slept undisturbed 
till the approach of morn, when 
he again sallied forth, drove his 
cattle to a spot of fresh herbage, 
and after a hasty morsel, plunged 
into the wilderness. 

He associated neither with 
man nor woman ; and if accident 
or necessity threw a human 
creature in his way, he felt evi- 
dent pain, which he C .. ays en- 
deavoured to remove by getting 
away. 

If, after erecting his hut, he 
discovered 



ANGUS FOY FLETCHER. 



discovered that it was built near 
a sequestered hamlet, or the out- 
lying grounds of any remote 
farm which had escaped his 
notice, or if he found himself 
often interrupted by visitors, he 
instantly moved house, (with 
him, no very burthensome or 
tedious business) and pro- 
ceeded to build another in a 
situation less frequented, and 
sometimes apparently inacces- 
sible. 

Thus occupied and so situ- 
ated, spring, summer, autumn, 
and part of winter passed away ; 
but when the benumbing cold- 
ness of December came on, the 
bitterness of which in that coun- 
try a South Briton scarcely can 
conceive, Angus descended with 
reluctance from his solitary den 
on the mountain, and submitted 
unwillingly to the necessity of 
residing among his fellow crea- 
tures; but here, from habit, or 
design, he rose at break of day, 
was absent till night, and gene- 
rally retired to rest without be- 
ing spoken to or speaking, heard 
or seen. 

This singular character is de- 
scribed as attentive to and neat 
in his dress ; his looks, deport- 
ment, and attitude, as dignified 
and lofty; his pace, excepting 
when he avoided meeting com- 
pany, slow, measured, and some- 
what stately. 

VOL. IV o 



Such was the stubborn inde- s 
pendence of his spirit and such 
his unbending pride, (we want a 
little of this right sort of pride to 
the south of the Tweed) that he 
would have perished rather than 
ask a favour of any one: yet 
the same man killed, prepared, 
and cooked the whole of his 
food; made his bed, washed his 
shirt, and performed every spe- 
cies of domestic drudgery with 
his own hands. 

Such was Angus Foy, haughty 
under the most humiliating cir- 
cumstances; and at a period, 
and in a country civilized and 
christian, exhibiting himself in 
the original state of man, when 
just emerged from barbarism 
and savage manners ; a hunter, 
a fisher, and a herdsman, wholly 
unacquainted with religion, read- 
ing, w r riting, or the English lan« 
guage. 

His meritorious conduct, in 
two respects, ought not to pass, 
unnoticed. He once rescued a 
female from robbery, violation, 
and probably from murder, who 
never knew or saw the face of 
her benefactor, as after her de- 
liverance, he accompanied her 
in silence through the midnight 
gloom to the door of her dwel- 
ling, and suddenly disappeared: 
without uttering a word. 

The hero of this action would 

never have been guessed at, but 

from 



10 



ANGUS FOY FLETCHER. 



from the circumstance of there 
having been found on the spot 
where he chastised the ruffian 
a peculiar ribbon, party-coloured 
like his plaid, with which he 
tied his hair; to this I forgot to 
say he was carefully attentive and 
had a large quantity, which 
separated below the part which 
was tied, and spreading in lux- 
uriant curls over his back and 
shoulders, gave him a singular 
but not ungraceful air. This 
circumstance and another part 
of his conduct prove, that his 
habits of seclusion were not 
founded on misanthropy. 

If at any time a benighted 
traveller or way-worn stranger 
wandered near his walks, he en- 
tertained them with unaffected 
hospitality, gave them the best 
entertainment and bed his hut 
afforded, and chearfully put 
them into their right road in the 
morning; on such occasions he 
was truly hospitable, he wel- 
comed the coming, sped the part- 
ing guest; but the visits of 
prying curiosity, wanton intru- 
sion, or ignorant impudence, he 
always avoided or repelled. 

Three causes have been as- 
signed to account for the extra- 
ordinary life which he led : that 
his reason was partially clouded 
by insanity; that he had been 
early in life the victim of dis- 
appointed love; or, lastly, that 



he was guilty of some enormous 
but secret crime. 

The first I will not enter on, 
as every deviation from right 
reason and the established cus- 
toms of mankind may be at- 
tributed to the same origin. 

It is observed by the ingenious 
gentleman to whom I am in- 
debted for this article, that as 
Angus, equally avoiding both 
sexes, never discovered any par- 
tiality for women, the second 
supposition is improbable. 

With submission to better 
judgments I think very differ- 
ently. 

A person invited to a public 
dinner, and disposed to treat his 
palate with dainties not to be 
met with every day at private 
tables, sees something which 
answers this description, and 
bringing with him two commo- 
dities not always found at such 
places, patience and good man- 
ners, he waits with composure 
till he finds with surprise the 
dexterous knife- a rid -fork men 
have demolished the whole of 
his favourite dish; and at last a 
plate of what no one else will 
eat is placed before him. 

Naturally irritated by such 
treatment, he quits the room 
dinnerless and disgusted, prefer- 
ring, like a man of good taste, 
fasting to foul feeding; and 
solitude rather than the com- 
pany 



ANGUS FOY FLETCHER. 



11 



pany of these worthy characters, 
who make it a rule to eat till 
the seventh button of their 
waistcoat rubs hard against the 
edge of the table. 

Actuated by similar motives 
of resentment or distaste, our 
solitary mountaineer in his youth- 
ful days might have felt the 
fascination of female charms : a 
fascination often experienced by 
the editor of these pages, from 
the interesting manners and cul- 
tivated minds of Scotch women, 
although generally inferior in 
personal beauty to the roses and 
lilies of England. 

Angus might have lost his 
heart in contemplating some fe- 
male exalted by education, rank, 
and fortune, far beyond his reach; 
the lady also might probably 
have fixed her affections on a 
person in the only neighbour- 
hood where Fletcher could as- 
sociate ; she might perhaps have 
given the happy man her hand 
and heart, and have exhibited a 
striking example of nuptial hap- 
piness. 

What lover would not wish to 
turn his eyes from a sight like 
this ; a spectacle, to which in 
the perverted optics of disap- 
pointed passion, a desert, soli- 
tude, or even hell would be pre- 
ferred ; for although it has been 
often said that the happiness of 
the woman he loves is the first 



wish of a lover, I am of opinion 
that it is always understood that 
he is to be a party concerned. 

In supposing this to be the 
cause of the secession of Angus, 
it is possible we may also be 
mistaken. 

Perhaps his nervous system 
was not calculated to resist the 
wear and tear of society; he 
might have inherited a diseased 
irritability, which incapacitated 
him for enduring the bustle and 
elbow of common life. The 
proud man's insults, the oppres- 
sion of wealthy superiority, the 
frauds of whining hypocrisy, the 
misrepresentations of ignorance, 
and the swaggerings of impu- 
dence, which other men laugh 
at, retaliate or defy, to him might 
be insufferable agony. 

To be ridiculed by. folly and 
disturbed by pert absurdity, to 
be censured by the prudent, in- 
structed by the fortunate, and 
even to be pitied by the good, 
might be more than he could 
patiently bear. 

But if Fletcher by necessity 
or by choice was deprived of 
the soothing aspect and endear- 
ing attention of friends, relations, 
and neighbours, he was not 
without pleasures, and some of 
them of the sublimest kind; 
his was unrestrained liberty, and 
a will uncontrouled, which the 
courtier does not deserve and 
c 2 the 



ANGUS FOY FLETCHER. 



the monarch cannot bestow, nor 
himself always enjoy ; ' the wild 
was all before him where to 
chuse his place of rest, and Pro- 
vidence his guide;* nature, rude 
and unspoiled by art ; rocks, 
torrents, mountains, and vales, 
were alternately before his eyes ; 
an unbounded nocturnal view of 
the ethereal concave studded 
with millions of worlds, (in high 
northern positions, remarkably 
clear and beautiful) the silver 
moon bursting from separated 
clouds, and all the dread mag- 
nificence of Heaven, must have 
frequently attracted notice, pro- 
duced admiration, and at times 
have enforced reverence. 

In solitude and silence he 
might triumphantly contemplate 
the extent of his own powers, 
which, without beino; obliged 
to an injurious world, enabled 
him to procure with his own 
hands, cloathing, occupation, 
fuel, and food. 

On his supposed criminality, 
on his being tortured by com- 
punction, and driven by a 
guilty conscience to solitude 
and grief, who but the great 
reader of all hearts shall pretend 
to decide. 

At all events, if he felt him- 
self vnequal to the battle of 
human life, the war of interests 
and the struggle of passions; if 
the shield of fortitude and the 



sword of persevering energy to 
resist the world, the flesh, and 
that worst of all daemons which 
a man carries in his own bosom, 
if these were denied him, or if 
granted, had dropped from his 
hand, he did right to retire, 
rather than expose an unguarded 
temper, a generous disposition, 
and an open heart, a weak un- 
derstanding or a wounded spirit, 
to the cruel attacks of perfidy, 
selfishness, ridicule, malevolence, 
and fraud. 

" A life of solitude" it is true 
<e is not congenial to a creature 
like man, whose wants and 
wishes clearly mark him as a 
social animal ; and it seems de- 
signed by Providence that there 
shall be no happiness on earth 
equal to that which arises from 
social intercourse, directed by 
benevolence, and animated by 
intellectual esteem ; but this, like 
everv other blessing, may be 
and is perverted. 

ec Can any thing be more 
irksome to a rational being en- 
dowed with sympathy and taste 
than the routine of those circles, 
whose professed object is plea- 
sure ; where politeness, decency, 
repose, and domestic happiness> 
are sacrificed to frivolous fashion; 
where rudeness and unfeeling 
persiflage are called easy man- 
ners ; where ignorance and an 
uncultivated intellect pass cur- 
rent 



ANTHONY DE CORRO. 



13 



rent under the smooth varnish 
of simpering insipidity ?" 

ANTHONY DE CORRO, 
a learned Spaniard, born 
and educated at Seville, and de- 
signed for a Carthusian, but 
misled by common sense, or ter- 
rified at the hardships and pri- 
vations of a monastic life, he 
would not believe that man 
making himself miserable could 
be any gratification to the Al- 
mighty, 

Being censured for these and 
other heterodox opinions, he 
was threatened with punish- 
ment, and in a country where 
at that period (1570) super- 
stition was bloody and terrific, 
would in all probability have 
been more than threatened, but 
fortunately he had not finished 
his noviciate. 

Disgusted by such treatment, 
and apprehending what be might 
expect when once he had made 
his profession, he fled from 
Spain. 

It is worthy of remark, that 
at the moment De Corro was 
driven from his country by per- 
secution, Henry the third, king 
of Navarre, (afterwards Henry 
the fourth of France) separated 
from Seville only by Castile and 
Arragon, openly professed Cal- 
vinism. 

The fugitive repaired to Eng- 



land, where he was introduced to 
Dr. Sandys, bishop of London, 
who enquiring into the truth of 
the tale he told, and finding it 
authentic, became his patron. 

Having prpved himself worthy 
of protection, by the joint in- 
terest of that prelate, and Robert 
earl of Leicester, their Chancel- 
lor, he was recommended to the 
university of Oxford, with a 
request, that at the next public 
act they would permit the 
Spaniard to proceed doctor of 
divinity without expence; and 
at the same time dispense with 
any previous degree. 

This proceeding was meant 
as a preliminary step to his being 
appointed a reader of the divinity 
lectures; Doctor Sandys being 
of opinion that a man educated 
like De Corro, in a foreign 
seminary, was well qualified to 
detect and guard the students 
against the errors of popery. 

But the proposal occasioned 
great fear and jealousy in a re- 
spectable and numerous party, at 
that time powerful, and to whom, 
from their pretensions to superior 
purity in faith and morals, the 
sarcastic appellation of puritans 
had been given. 

With many faults on the 
points of morose temper, un- 
accommodating zeal, and re- 
publican propensity, it can- 
not be denied that a large 
portion 



14 



ANTHONY DE CORRO. 



portion of the individuals coming 
under their description pos- 
sessed strong minds, disinterested 
views, and the unshaken, but in 
modern times the inexpedient 
spirit of martyrdom. 

Their correct lives and unde- 
viating submission to the prin- 
ciples and practice of primitive 
Christianity cannot be praised 
too much ; but it is not possible 
1o read their favourite, their able 
historian Neale, without re- 
marking his want of candour, 
moderation, and sometimes ac- 
curacy, in his statement of facts; 
but where alas is the man to be 
found, who having enlisted un- 
der an oppressed and obnoxious 
sect can avoid dipping his pen 
in the bitter gall of resentment. 

The opposers of the dispensa- 
tion for which the refugee pe- 
titioned, insisted that settling a 
foreigner and a new convert 
from popery in one or' the uni- 
versities of England, which had 
suffered so much from the fraud 
and violence of the church of 
Rome, was a dangerous project 
and likely to inflame men's 
minds already greatly prejudiced 
against the old superstition. 

They further observed, that 
although De Corro had abjured 
the Catholic faith he was strongly 
suspected of being tainted with 
the Pelagian heresy; of enter- 
taining heterodox opinions on 



predestination, and justification 
by faith, two grand and indis- 
pensable requisites in the creed of 
every real and sincere christian ; 
and further, that it was not 
known for a certainty, whether 
he had been actually called to 
the gospel ministry, either by 
episcopal ordination in this 
realm, or by any church beyond 
the seas. 

These and other considerations 
produced a smart debate ; but 
when a motion was made for 
granting a dispensation to the 
Spanish refugee, the house out 
of respect to their chancellor 
passed the vote, with the follow- 
ing words tacked to it; the said 
Anthony first purging himself 
of heretical opinions. 

After a little outcry, De 
Corro was permitted to perform 
the proposed functions of a reader 
of the divinity lectures, con- 
ducted himself with prudence, 
and acquired the esteem of many 
of his former opponents. 

He was a large contributor 
to the press ; the following are a 
few of his works : — 

An Admonition to the Fle- 
mish Church at Antwerp. Lon- 
don, 8vo. 1570. 

An Explanation of St. Paul's 
Epistle to the Romans. L ^ldon, 
Svo. 1574. 

A Supplication addressed to 

the King of Spain, (Philip the 

second) 



APPARITIONS. 



15 



second) in behalf of the perse- 
cuted protestants in the Low 
Countries. London, Svo. 1577. 

A Grammar, containing cer- 
tain rules for acquiring the' 
French and Spanish languages. 
London, 1590. 

After having subdued or mi- 
tigated his sectarian disturbers, 
De Corro died at a ripe old age ; 
but his domestic life is said to 
have been far from tranquil. 

The Catholics, probably ir- 
ritated by his desertion, insisted 
that this was a punishment in- 
flicted by Heaven for his heresy, 
and in kind, 

" The «first step the renegado 
took," said his enemies, " after 
he had plunged into the mire of 
heresy, was taking a wife, who 
proved unfaithful, and like the 
daughter he had by her, was 
neither pure nor peaceable." 
, If the enemies of the Spaniard 
were right in the origin from 
which they deduced his connu- 
bial misfortune, we have in 
modern times witnessed with 
regret, but I fear without edi- 
fication, a great number of such 
celestial punishments. 

A PPARITIONS.-AVhen 
-*-J*- Doctor Johnson was ral- 
lied for his faith in ghosts, he 
used to call over the names of 
the various eminent characters, 
who at different periods had 



been of his opinion : among 
these he generally mentioned 
Doctor Fowler, bishop of Glou- 
cester in the early part of the 
eighteenth century; of that pre- 
late the following conversation 
withjudge Powell is recorded. on 
good authority : — 

ei Since I saw you," said the 
lawyer, a humourist as well as a 
worthy man, who had often 
attacked the opinions of the pre- 
late, il since I saw you I have 
had ocular demonstration of 
the existence of nocturnal ap- 
paritions." 

66 I am glad, Mr. Justice, you 
are become a convert to truth ; 
but do you say actual ocular 
demonstration ? Pray let me 
know the particulars of the 
story at large." 

" My lord, I will. It was, let 
me see, last Thursday night, be- 
tween the hours of eleven and 
twelve, but nearer the latter than 
the former, as I lay sleeping in 
my bed, I was suddenly awaken- 
ed by an uncommon noise, 
and heard something coming up 
stairs and stalking directly 
towards my room ; the door 
flying open, I drew back my 
curtain, and saw a faint glim- 
mering light enter my chamber." 
" Of a blue colour no doubt." 
" The light was of a pale blue, 
my lord, and followed by a tall 
meagre personage, his locks 
hoary 



16 



AVARICE. 



hoary with age, and cloathed in 
a long loose gown, a leathern 
girdle was about his loins, his 
beard thick and grizly, a large 
fur cap on his head, and a long- 
staff' in his hand. Struck with 
astonishment, I remained for 
some time motionless and silent ; 
the figure advanced, staring me 
full in the face : 1 then said 
' Whence and what art thou;' 
the following was the answer I 
received — 

(l I am watchman of the night, 
an't please your honour, and 
made bold to come up stairs to 
inform the family of their street 
door being left open, and that if 
it was not soon shut they would 
probably be robbed before morn- 
ing." 

Doctor Fowler seized his hat 
and departed. 

AVARICE, called by a late 
writer, and in a way pe- 
culiarly his own, a damned 
ill-natured hateful vice, which 
it certainly is ; but while we ac- 
knowledge this truism, let us 
take care to be correct in our ap- 
plication of it, let us b,e sure 
that the cases in which, and the 
persons on whom, we bestow 
harsh and degrading epithets, 
actually deserve them. 

More than one reason occurs 
for introducing the present ar- 
ticle; the editor having lately 



frequented a circle graced with 
beauty and enlivened by wit, 
which sometimes sparkled at the 
expence of good nature: maiden 
aunts and batchelor uncles with 
ghastly disinheriting countenan- 
ces, were often the subject of loud 
laughter and satirical raillery. 

After joining in the laugh, 
for at Rome we must do as the 
Romans do, and silently ac- 
knowledging the self-evident 
proposition, that a father or an 
uncle who does not give up his 
own comforts and the soothers 
of declining age to a jolly fellow 
who understands the true art to 
live at Bath, Newmarket, and 
St. James's-street, must be a 
miserly dog, a dry flinty-hearted 
old rascal, and like a certain 
quadruped good only when dead ; 
after listening alternately to 
coarse abuse and unfounded as- 
sertion, the writer of this article 
retired to a favourite path pre- 
served almost in the face of im- 
possibility from the sea. He 
reflected on what he had heard 
and seen, and whilst his heart, 
heavy laden, performed its office 
with difficulty, the spirit (I 
mean of perverted truth and 
tongue-tied common sense) the 
spirit gave him utterance, and 
he poured forth in his us-d tone 
and emphasis the language of 
Young, Otway, Shakespear, and 
though last not least, the pathetic 
and 



BAYLE. 



17 



and impressive Cowper, occa- 
sionally interposing the masterly- 
felicities of Horace, and the tierce 
satire of Juvenal ; the roaring 
wind, stupendous waves, and a 
lofty cliff with projecting rocks, 
and broken fragments, formed at 
the same time a scene perfectly 
in unison with the state of his 
mind. 

But to quit this poetry, or 
prose run mad; a slight sketch 
of the private history of two of 
the persons, who formed part of 
the joyous circle he had quitted, 
will elucidate the truths meant 
to be enforced. 

The principal female who led 
the chorus, considering a stroke 
of the palsy with which her father 
had been just smitten as a sig- 
nal for departure, had chosen 
the moment for travelling across 
the country to make a distant 
visit, and left a parent, who had 
put himself to pecuniary difficul- 
ties to finish Iter education and 
contribute to her pleasures, in 
the hands of servants and mer- 
cenaries. 

The hero who performed the 
principal part, as gentleman, in 
the piece, having dissipated his 
paternal inheritance, subsisted 
wholly on the bounty of a ma- 
ternal uncle, who after passing 
the best part of his life in an 
unhealthy climate had returned 
to his native country to die, 

vol. IV. 



with a fortune the produce of 
honest industry, and little more 
than sufficient to administer to 
the comfort and tranquillity of 
declining age. 

The crime, the never to be 
forgiven crime this unnatural 
unclehad committed, was making 
it a condition annexed to the 
allowance he made the gentle- 
7nan, that he should not visit 
London, Bath, or Newmarket; 
well aware that his nephew had 
formed connections and con- 
tracted habits in those places, 
wholly incompatible with a 
small income, and which had 
already involved the gentleman 
in two uncreditable embarrass- 
ments : for this abominable con- 
duct, of course the unnatural 
uncle with his d d disinherit- 
ing visage, was a surly old dog, 
a miserly flinty-hearted old ras- 
cal, and the sooner he was dead 
the better. 

In one respect I agree that 
the uncle was highly culpable, 
as I have often told , him, for 
making the gentleman any al- 
lowance at all ; in such case he 
would have persisted in his high- 
way frolics, have been hanged, 
and the world as well as his 
family have been rid of an in- 
tolerable nuisance. 

EAYLE, a French refugee, 
author of the critical and 
x> historical 



18 



BAYLE. 



historical dictionary, a work 
overflowing with learning and 
information, but not without a 
large portion of matter highly ex- 
ceptionable and repugnant to 
morality, religion and taste. 

I address the present article to 
those private gentlemen and 
public bodies in various parts of 
Great Britain and Ireland, who 
possess libraries and large col- 
lections of books 3 I earnestly 
request of them, if Bayle and 
other books of a similar de- 
scription must have a shelf, I 
request that they would let them 
be kept under lock and key. 

I have at different times been 
permitted, and in various parts 
of the kingdom, to visit many 
libraries, and at an early hour of 
the day, when the greater part of 
the family had not quitted their 
beds; but I have repeatedly 
found children, servants and 
young women, perusing with 
avidity books, which no good 
father or prudent man would put 
into the hands of his children. 
The English translation of 
Bayle was in general the favour- 
ite, and in every iibrary I have 
yet seen, the leaves of this work, 
particularly those where the ob- 
noxious and indecorous articles 
occurred, bore evident marks of 
having been often turned over 
by fingers like the imagination 
of that singular writer, not very 
clean. 



It is by no means my wish to 
restore that old papistic tyranny 
in literature, an index expur- 
gatorious ; but I appeal to pa- 
rents, guardians, and the many 
worthy persons engaged in edu- 
cating the rising generation, 
whether it is right, safe, or expe- 
dient to display to young minds 
and fervid imaginations in gaudy 
colours and seducing language, 
loose infidelity and lascivious 
description, which I am con- 
vinced (and I speak from experi- 
rience) have done considerable 
and irreparable mischief; because 
paper once blotted, whatever 
pains we take never can be re- 
stored to its original whiteness, 
nor will a mind depraved in 
early life by bad company and 
improper books, ever recover its 
first purity. 

The theory of Mr. Bayle, with 
all his great powers and exten- 
sive reading, cannot be defended 
on any ground of philosophical 
indifference, toleration, utility, 
or expedience. 

His opinion in one point is 
evident, from a favourite quota- 
tion which he makes more than 
once from Minucius Felix, cas- 
titas enim tutior, sedimpudicitia, 
felicior. 

He who is persuad~ J to march 
in the path of duty from no other 
motive than its safety, but is at 
the same time told that an ex- 
cursion from the right road is 
pleasanter, 



BOARDING SCHOOLS. 



19 



pleasanter, will in all human pro- 
bability soon try the experiment. 
In a word, the Dictionary of 
Bayle is amusing, and on subjects 
of general criticism, instructive; 
but his metaphysic disquisitions 
are dangerous, and his work 
communicates none of that true 
wisdom which makes us better 
here and happier hereafter. 

BLUSHING HONORS— 
It was observed in a late 
reign of a gentleman, on whom 
a minor dignity had been con- 
ferred, that his chairs, spoons, 
harness, and every implement 
and domestic utensil, to which it 
could be attached by the painter 
or the engraver, had received 
this additional decoration, only 
a few hours after he had himself 
been embellished. 

On this occasion, a wicked 
wit applied an epigram written 
by a modern Latin poet, with 
a few alterations, but I think in 
-vitiated measure. 

Judcei nostri florentis nomen 

honoris 
Indicat in clypei f route cruenta 

manus. 
No'n quod scevus aliquid, aut 

stric to for titer ense, 
Hostibus occisis ducebat iste co- 

hortem : 
Terrorem infantum madidum et 

sanguine cultrem 



Prceputio exciso rulelat dextra 
parentis. 

The father or grandfather of 
the person satirized had been a 
Jewish priest. 

BOARDING SCHOOLS. 
It is the observation of a 
writer who says many good 
things, but carries them gene- 
rally too far, "that the in- 
numerable places of this de- 
scription for both sexes are 
among the greatest abuses of the 
age; this he thinks obvious" 
from the little improvement 
children make, and the vices 
they acquire. 

" The manners of young 
women, who have been educated 
at a boarding school, are so 
strongly marked, as to prevent 
our mistaking them in any com- 
pany, or any situation of life ; 
indeed they require not a com- 
ment, they speak loudly for 
themselves daily and hourly, and 
as loudly call for a different 
mode of education. 

" The rearing and instruction 
of boys, though not carried off 
with so muck assurance, equally 
tend to perverted morals and 
ruin. 

"There is one argument, ir- 
resistible to parents who wish 
their sons to make afgure, which 
school-masters never forget; it 
d 2 is 



20 



B0LINGBR0KE, VISCOUNT. 



is this, that their children will 
never shine at the bar, in the 
senate, or the pulpit, unless the 
whole of their time from youth 
to manhood is devoted to erudi- 
tion. 

e( It is not easy to conceive a 
greater or a more fatal mistake ; 
with how much more credit, 
profit, and happiness, would a 
large portion of this period be 
passed under the paternal roof, 
where without excluding oc- 
casional literary employment 
their minds and habits would be 
formed to the business of human 
life, early vicious tendencies re- 
strained, and what is of no 
small importance, salutary oc- 
cupation be afforded for the pa-r 
rents. 

u Alas, they have other and 
more important objects of pur- 
suit, dress, whist, the fox chace, 
public spectacles, &c &c. &c. ; 
but when the ruinous youthful 
career of vicious extravagance 
hath been run, when that most 
important of our duties, domestic 
superintendance, hath been neg- 
lected or trusted to unfaithful 
hands, the astonished father 
wakes from his vain dream of in- 
fatuation and affects to be sur- 
prised at a train of vipers, fos- 
tered alas too often to sting his 
bosom in old age. 

" Fathers of families in the 
wildness of a fond imagination 



forget that no education will in 
general elevate a man of common 
talents above that rank in life in 
which he has been born. 

"A shop-bill, written by 
David Hume, who is said to have 
written many behind a counter, 
will be no better prized than one 
written by a blockhead, if the 
latter sells his goods a farthing a 
pound cheaper. 

" On the other hand, genius 
and superior abilities will dis- 
tinguish themselves without be- 
ing kept so long in trammels; 
they require not such assistance ; 
they smooth all difficulties and 
surmount every obstacle." 

OLINGBROKE, VIS- 
COUNT, for a short time 
the prime minister of Queen 
Anne. 

My collection has been coarsely 
censured by a warm admirer of 
this noble lord, who is, if I mis- 
take not, descended from the il- 
legitimate offspring of one of 
his lordship's humble amours; 
this miscellany has been cen- 
sured as partially inveterate 
against the right honourable 
sceptic. 

My opponent, who like his 
ancestor, thinks freely hut not 
deeply, and whom I once called 
a connoisseur without taste, and 
a pedant without learning, — this 
feeble amateur accuses me of 
having 



BOLINGBROKE, VISCOUNT. 



having quoted invective verses 
against Lord Bolingbroke with- 
out producing the panegyric 
which occasioned them. 

As in some cases we may re- 
ceive useful instruction from an 
adversary, I present to my read- 
ers what must have been a 
sugared treat to the ex-minister, 
premising that in consonance 
with my own feelings and con- 
victions I shall add the answer, 
some part of which has ap- 
peared in a former volume : — 

5 Tis sung, that exil'd by tyran- 
nic Jove, 

Apollo, from the starry realms 
above, 

To sylvan scenes, to grots and 
streams retir'd, 

And rural scenes and rural 
sports admir'd; 

.Adiiiir'd, but found with plea- 
sure and surprize, 

Himself the same on earth as in 
the skies, 

The wond'ring swains and 
nymphs where'er he trod,- 

With transport gaz'd and re- 
cogniz'd the God. 

The tale's now verified, what 
here we view 

In Bolingbroke, has made the 
fiction true. 

See, emblem of himself, his villa 
stand, 

Politely finish'd, regularly grand ; 

No gaudy colours stain the well- 
siz'd hall, 



Blank light and shade discrimi- 
nate the wall : 

He lightly thinks of what must 
all men charm, 

A noble palace, simply calls a 
farm. 

No glaring trophies here, no 
spoils of war 

Attract the eye — ■ 

But rustic implements to till 
the fields, 

And the wild flower luxuriant 
nature yields. 

Thus noble St. John in his 
sweet recess, 

By those made greater who 
wou'd make him less ; 

Thus free of heart and eloquent 
of tongue, 

With speech harmonious as a 
heavenly song, 

Suspends in rapture each atten- 
tive guest, 

Ungrateful Britain, what a fault 

is thine, 
This well-schooPd statesman's 

counsels to decline ! 
In scenes retir'd the vet'ran 

patriot lives, 
And for his ruin'd country 

vainly grieves. 

These verses were answered in 
the following manner : — . 

Base sycophant beneath a poet's 

fame, 
Who daub'st with praise an 

execrable name. 

Scandal 



BOUTHILLIER DE RANGE. 



Scandal to truth, thy verse is 

like thy cause, 
And as thy patron's honour, thy 

applause; 
Thou hast wrap't St. John in a 

God's disguise, 
And styls't dread Jove the ty- 
rant of the skies. 
With whom can such abusive 

lies prevail? 
Or who believes the fabricated 

tale? 
If George is Jove, then every one 

must own 
St. John,- the traitor, who at- 
tack 'd his throne: 
But baffled in his schemes so 

wild and vain, 
The thund'rer hurPd him down 

to earth again ; 
Then kindly heard him groaning 

for reprieve* 
Forgot his wrongs and bade the 

monster live. 
Releas'd and pardon'd, still the 

rebel tries 
His former arts in patriot dis- 
guise, 
Reviews the rancour of a tory 

mind, 
And studies mischief to undo 

mankind. 
This is the hero whom thy verse 

describM 
The virtuous man, so cruelly 

proserin 'd. 
Wou'd truth and painting lend 

their mutual aid, 



And Dawley's walls confess the 
faithful shade, 

What scenes of lust, deceit, and 
fraud, would rise, 

Heroes in exile and betray'd al- 
lies. 

The British lion hunted from the 
field, &c. &c. &c. 

BOUTHILLIER DE 
RANCE, a French noble- 
man and a man of pleasure, who 
had long been the successful but 
illicit lover of a lady of fashion 
and beauty in Paris, her hus- 
band being absent on military 
duty. 

From a routine of frivolous 
pursuits and criminal gratifica- 
tions, the subject of our pre- 
sent article was suddenly called 
to a distant province, where he 
was detained several months 
without any possibility of carry- 
ing on an epistolary correspon- 
dence. 

Having at length obtained the 
object of his journey and re- 
moved every impediment and 
delay, he flew on the wings of 
love to the French metropolis, 
which he did not reach till mid- 
night. 

By means of a passe par tout 
he traversed the garden and en- 
tered the house of his mistress 
without seeing or being seen by- 
any domestic; he rushes to that 
chamber 



JBOUTHILLIER DE RANCE. 



23 



chamber which had been often 
the scene of unhallowed bliss ; 
he draws back the curtain which 
inclosed all he values on earth, 
hoping to surprise with a rap- 
turous kiss the sleeping beauty, 
and to compensate for the pangs 
of absence by taking still deeper 
draughts of unmeasured delight. 

He starts back with horror 
and astonishment on discovering 
the dear object of his fondest 
wishes extended on the bed life- 
less, disfigured, and loathsome. 
In a word, his mistress during 
his absence had been seized with 
a most malignant species of small 
pox, and had fallen a sacrifice to 
that pestilential scourge. 

Deprived of the treasure of 
his heart and under circum- 
stances so shocking to an ardent 
lover, Ranee quits the house 
with difficulty ; despair and dis- 
appointment having paralyzed 
his body and mind, he secludes 
^imself at once from society, 
devotes his days and nights to 
sorrow, repentance, and religious 
contemplation, and finally be- 
came the founder of the monas- 
tery of La Trappe. 

Such is the romantic tale re- 
lated with credulous confidence 
by a modern writer; but the 
visionary ' fabrication will not 
bear the touchstone of critical 
examination, and vanishes from 



the magic talisman of truth 
and historical fact. 

The convent of La Trappe 
had existed for two centuries 
before the birth of Bouthillier; 
he was indeed Abbe and a con- 
siderable reformer of that religi- 
ous institution so remarkable for 
its fasts, its vigils, and that stilt 
more painful vow of eternal si- 
lence. 

The original founder was 
Rotrou, Count de Perche, so 
early as the twelfth century; 
being overtaken at sea by a furi- 
ous tempest, the ship he sailed 
in after being the sport of winds 
and waves for several days was 
at length driven on a rock, and 
the Count after many dangers 
was the only individual who 
escaped. 

In the moment of peril and 
distress he called for aid on the 
Almighty, accompanying his 
prayer with a vow of building 
and endowing a convent in case 
he reached the shore; this pro- 
mise he religiously performed. 

La Trappe, like every human 
institution, having degenerated 
from the austerities originally 
enjoined by its founder, was re- 
stored by the zeal of De Ranee, 
improved and armed with new 
horrors. 

To rise at midnight from the 

short unrefreshing repose of abed 

of 



BOUTHILLIER DE RANCE. 



of board; to pass the tedious 
hours till day-light approached 
in repeating Ave Marias, mise- 
reres and scourgings ; to sub- 
sist on food of the most tasteless 
kind ; to devote the day to the 
most laborious drudgery, and 
never to speak, was the discipline 
laid down by the founder, rigo- 
rously exemplified and enforced 
by the Abbe De Ranee, and con- 
sidered by them both as the 
most likely means of rendering, 
themselves and their disciples 
acceptable to the kind and omni- 
potent Creator of the world. 

But the credulous writer men- 
tioned at the beginning of this 
article is incorrect in the state- 
ment of other important particu- 
lars : Bouthillier was not the pro- 
miscuous lover, the invader of 
nuptial peace, the unprincipled 
debauchee before described. 

He was nephew to Bouthillier 
De Chavigny, superintendant of 
the French finances in the reign 
of Louis the thirteenth ; devoted 
to literature and science, mode- 
rate in his pleasures, correct in 
his manners, and a canon of 
the church of Notre Dame. 

He was editor of an edition 
of Anacreon with notes, and 
the bishopric of Laon being 
offered to him he declined ac- 
cepting it, fearing that such an 
exalted post would interrupt him 
in the literary life he loved, and 



separate him from the connec- 
tions and habits of his early 
days. 

The easy tenor of a life thus 
agreeably passed in literary pur- 
suits, friendly intercourse, and 
professional avocation, was sud- 
denly interrupted by his nar- 
rowly escaping a violent death 
from the hand of an assassin 
raised against another. 

This appears to have made an 
indelible impression on a ner- 
vous system remarkably sus- 
ceptible ; he never recovered his 
spirits, and in the opinion of the 
editor of this collection his in- 
tellects were partially deranged. 

This supposition I confess 
depends only on internal evi- 
dence, for he instantly quitted a 
circle of friends in which he was 
useful, pleasant and beloved, for 
the impenetrable gloom, the si- 
lence, the austerities and ir- 
rational self denials of La Trappe, 
dragging on an existence in my 
humble opinion displeasing to 
God, and certainly useless to 
man. 

In this retreat his literary pro- 
pensity at intervals returned, and 
his pen, though confined to 
Saints and monastic studies, pro- 
duced many works during the 
hours he could snatch from re- 
ligious exercises and repose. 

Many of his works are extant, 

particularly a collection of the 

lives 



CALAS, JOHN. 



25 



lives and deaths of the various 
monks, who have existed in the 
monastery of La Trappe. 

For this short account of an 
extraordinary foundation, stripped 
of error and romance, the public 
is indebted to an able and judi- 
cious anonymous critic, the 
accuracy of whose statement is 
supported by the respectable tes- 
timony of Maupeon, Marsollier, 
and Le Nain. 

CALAS, JOHN, a reputable 
tradesman, or as he was 
called in France, a merchant of 
the city of Thoulouse, in the, 
eighteenth century, whose mis- 
fortunes excited general atten- 
tion. 

Galas, his wife, and five sons, 
had been born and educated in 
the Protestant religion 5 but 
Lewis, the second of his children, 
• only a few months before the 
present narrative commences, 
renouncing the tenets he had 
professed, embraced the Catholic 
faith. 

It was supposed, that the 
young man had been persuaded 
to this change by an old female 
servant, who had lived many 
years in the family, and by 
whom he had been originally 
nursed. 

His parents lamented this 
apostacy, but being remarkable 
for affection towards their off- 

vol. IV, 



spring, it was not observed to 
diminish the kindness of their 
behaviour either to Lewis or the 
old domestic ; as they were con- 
vinced, however erroneous the 
proceeding, that it originated 
from amiable motives and a be- 
nevolent mind. 

Their eldest son, Anthony, had 
been bred to the law, but found 
that his dissenting from the 
established religion of his coun- 
try was an insuperable bar to his 
being admitted to practice. 

This disappointment was ob- 
served to have a strong effect on 
his mind and health ; he became 
melancholy, peevish and soli- 
tary; procured and perused 
many reprehensible books, and 
often repeated passages from 
them in defence of suicide. 

In this state of things, An- 
thony received an accidental 
visit from an old school -fellow, 
the son of Mr. Lavaisse, an 
avocat, or as we should term it, 
an attorney of Thoulouse. 

Young Lavaisse having been 
absent for several weeks at 
Bourdeaux, on his return found 
that his father bad been for 
several days at a little villa to 
which he occasionally retired, 
eight miles from the city. 

Having endeavoured to pro- 
cure a horse at several places, 
without effect, as he was coming 
out of the stable-yard of one of 
B the 



26 



CALAS, JOHN. 



the persons to whom he had ap- 
plied, he met Anthony and his 
father, who congratulated him on 
his arrival, and hearing that 
none of his family were at home, 
invited him to pass his evening 
at their house, to which he 
agreed. 

Mrs. Calas received Lavaisse, 
as the friend of her son, with 
great cordiality, and after sitting 
in conversation about half an 
hour, Anthony being the gene- 
ral market-man of the family, 
was sent to purchase some 
cheese ; soon after, Lavaisse went 
again to the keeper of a livery 
stable to see if any of his horses 
were returned, and to bespeak 
one for his use in the morn- 
ing. 

They both came back in a 
short time, and at seven o'clock 
sat down to supper in a room 
up one pair of stairs j the com- 
pany consisting of Calas, his 
wife, Anthony, Peter, one of 
his brothers, and Mr. Lavaisse. 

Before the meal was con- 
cluded, Anthony, without any 
apparent reason, rose from table 
in an evident state of mental 
perturbation ; this, as it was a 
circumstance which had often 
occurred since his indisposition, 
was not noticed : he passed 
into the kitchen which was on 
the same floor, and being asked 
by the servant if he was cold, 



said to her, " quite the contrary, 
I am in a burning heat;" he 
soon after went down stairs. 

It ought to have been ob- 
served, that the whole of the 
ground floor of the house was 
occupied by the shop and a 
warehouse behind it, which 
were separated by folding doors. 

The party whom Anthony 
had quitted, continued convers- 
ing till half past nine, when 
Lavaisse took his leave, and 
Peter, who fatigued by his at- 
tendance in the shop, had fallen 
asleep, was roused to attend him 
with a lantern. 

It is easier to conceive than 
describe their horror and asto- 
nishment on reaching the foot of 
the stairs; the first object pre- 
senting itself was the unhappy 
Anthony, stripped to his shirt, 
and hanging from a bar which 
he had laid across the top of , 
the folding doors, having half 
opened them for that purpose. 

Their exclamation brought 
Mr. Calas down stairs, who, the 
moment he saw what had taken 
place, rushed forwards, and rais- 
ing the body in his arms, moved 
the rope by which it was sus- 
pended, and the bar fell down ; 
for the two y<tmng men were so 
affected, that they stood im- 
moveable as statues, and lost 
all presence of mind. 

The unhappy father, in an 
agon}' 



CALAS, JOHN. 



27 



agony of grief, laid his son on the 
ground, and immediately sent 
Peter for Mr. Lamoire, a sur- 
geon, in the neighbourhood, ob- 
serving to him, "let us, if we 
can, prevent this dishonourable 
accident being known; you need 
not say how your brother's 
death took place. " 

Lavaisse in the mean time 
ran up stairs to prevent, if pos- 
sible, Mrs. Calas from knowing 
what had happened, but hearing 
the groans and outcries of her 
husband and the old servant, it 
could not be prevented, and the 
presence of this unhappy mother 
added to the afflicting scene. 

The surgeon was not at home, 
but his pupil, Mr. Grosse, im- 
mediately came ; on examina- 
tion he found, that Anthony was 
quite dead ; and when he re- 
moved his neckcloth, observing 
a dark circular mark made by 
the cord, immediately said he 
had been strangled.' 

A crowd of people, attracted 
by curiosity and the cries of 
the family, had collected round 
the door, and hearing the sur- 
geon's words, immediately formed 
an opinion that the deceased 
was on the point of becoming 
a Catholic, and that his family, as 
Protestants, had strangled An- 
thony, to prevent his abjuring 
their communion. 

The majority of the inhabi- 



tants of France, being at that 
period violently prejudiced against 
the Calvinists, and more parti- 
cularly the inhabitants of Thou- 
louse, who for several years 
celebrated the massacre of St. 
Bartholomew, by anniversary 
processions, this vague suspi- 
cion was eagerly circulated, and 
with many absurd aggravations, 
pronounced an undeniable fact; 
a furious mob assembled, and to 
prevent Calas and his family 
being torn to pieces, it was 
thought necessary to send for 
the intendant of the police and 
his assistants. 

These peace officers, instead of 
quieting the people and entering 
into cool examination of facts, 
precipitately sided in opinion 
with the multitude, and the 
whole family, together with 
Lavaisse, was committed to 
prison, under circumstances of 
universal hatred and indigna- 
tion. 

The Franciscans and White 
Penitents, two religious societies 
at that time in Thoulouse, zeal- 
ously inflamed the public irrita- 
tion; they propagated a report 
that Anthony, who had never 
given the least indication of a 
change in his opinions, that An- 
thony was the next day to have 
become one of their fraternity; 
that he was strangled in order to 
prevent it, and that Lavaisse, on 
e 2 this 



23 



CALAS, JOHN. 



this and other similar occa- 
sions, was general executioner 
among the Calvinists. 

The corpse was publicly in- 
terred in St. Stephens, accom- 
panied by a long and pompous 
procession, a solemn service and 
funeral dirge; a tomb was 
raised to his memory in a con- 
spicuous part of that churchy 
and a real human skeleton was 
exhibited on the monument, 
holding in one hand a paper, on 
which was written abjuration 
of heresy, and in the other a 
branch of the palm tree, as an 
emblem of martyrdom. 

In such a state of the public* 
mind it was not probable that 
the affair would experience an 
impartial examination. 

The Capitoul, one David, an 
ignorant but fierce bigot, insisted 
on the impossibility of a per- 
son's suspending himself across 
the folding doors, and said that 
it was a common practice with 
Protestant parents to hang such 
of their children as wished to 
change their religion ; the wor- 
thy magistrate, forgetting at the 
moment, or resolving not to 
remember, that Lewis Galas, 
another of the unfortunate pri- 
soner's children, had actually 
become a Catholic, and so far from 
incurring the resentment of his 
father had been lately settled 



by him in an advantageous 
business, and that the person 
who had been the chief instru- 
ment of his conversion was 
at the moment an inmate in the 
family, and treated with unre- 
mitting kindness. 

La Borde, the presiding Judge, 
who knew and ought to have 
acted better, warmly espoused 
the popular opinion ; he repeat- 
edly enquired (( if Anthony Calas 
had been seen to kneel at his 
father's feet before he strangled 
him 3" but receiving no satisfac- 
tory answer, observed, that the 
cries of the murdered martyr were 
heard at distant parts of the city ; 
he added, that " it was necessary 
to make an example of John 
Calas, for the edification of true 
believers and the propagation of 
sound faith, as hereticks had 
been of late more than usually 
bold and incorrigible. " 

I relate with concern, that in 
the eighteenth century, in a 
Christian country, and during 
the reign of a most Christian 
king, this unfortunate old man, 
seventy years of age, and irre- 
proachable in life, who was re- 
markable for parental affection, 
and had brought up a numerous 
family in credit and repute, was 
declared guilty of murderi ..g his 
own child, a crime which col- 
lateral and other circumstances 
proved 



CALAS, JOHN. 



20 



proved he had never committed, 
and sentenced to be broken on 
the wheel. 

The innocent prisoner in a 
few days was led forth to punish- 
ment, in a state of mind which 
excited general admiration. 

Two honest Dominicans, 
Bourges and Caldagues, who at- 
tended him, declared that they 
not only thought him innocent 
of the crime, but an uncommon 
example of Christian patience, 
fortitude, charity, and forbear- 
ance; they could not help re- 
marking, that in his prayers he 
intreated the Almighty to pardon 
the errors of his enemies; these 
worthy fathers united in wishing, 
that their last hours might be 
like his. 

Galas endured the torture 
with unabated firmness, declar- 
ing the innocence of himself 
and family to the last : his son 
Peter was banished for life, the 
other persons with a glaring in- 
consistency,^ — for if one was 
guilty, all must have been so, — > 
were set at liberty. 

This melancholy and disgrace- 
ful transaction, which took place 
in the year 1761} naturally at- 
tracted the notice and commissera- 
tionof all well-disposed, humane 
and liberal persons, particularly 
of Mr. Voltaire, the advocate of 
toleration; who, like other ad- 
vocates, was ultimately carried 



further in his reforming career 
than he originally expected or 
designed. 

But in rescuing the family of 
Calas from obloquy and dis- 
grace, he was commended by all 
parties. 

His applications to men in 
power were so effectual, that the 
judicial proceedings were sent to 
Paris, and revised ; Calas and the 
whole of the family were de- 
clared innocent, the sentence 
was annulled; the attorney- ge- 
neral of the province was di- 
rected to prosecute the infamous 
Capitoul, David, and every pos- 
sible satisfaction was made to 
the widow, to Mr. Lavaisse, and 
the survivors. 

But although every thing that 
could be done was done, all 
could not call up from the grave 
the mangled corpse of the un- 
fortunate father, who at the mo- 
ment he was suffering unutter- 
able distress of mind for a suicide 
child, was loaded with disgrace 
and chains, and committed to a 
loathsome dungeon, accused, 
tried, and condemned, as the ex- 
ecutioner of his own offspring, 
suffered a cruel death, and finally 
was insulted on the scaffold in 
his last agonies by the cruel 
David. "Wretch," said this 
infernal monster to the poor old 
man, while in a state of torture, 
(i IVretch, confess your crime, , 
behold 



30 



CALAS, JOHN. 



lehold the faggots which are to 
consume your body to ashes." 

The melancholy impressions 
made by this article would have 
been somewhat alleviated, had 
it been in the editor's power to 
relate with truth, that the vile 
Capitoul, a Franciscan, and two 
or three White Penitents, had 
been hanged. 

Where and when have I seen, 
and by what artist, a painting in 
which a groupe of persons are 
exhibited as contemplating a 
picture of the tragedy which 
forms the subject of my present 
article, and exemplifying its ef- 
fect, on different tempers and 
dispositions? 

The man of violent passions, 
with fury in his countenance, 
and an extended arm. is pouring 
forth execrations against the re- 
morseless bigots; another gen- 
tleman of exquisite sensibility 
is silently wiping the tear from 
his cheek ; a connoisseur seems 
to be admiring the painter's per- 
formance, without being ap- 
parently affected by the subject 
of it; and a jolly fellow, who 
appears to have understood and 
practised the pleasures of the 
table, sits undisturbed before the 
picture, buried in fat, indolence, 
and stupidity. 

Various have been the efforts 
of human wisdom to correct the 
excesses of intolerant supersti- 



tion; in many instances these 
efforts have been successful, but 
like a race horse, pushing for 
the goal, they have often been 
carried further than was intended. 

The zealous, and perhaps at 
first and before his passions are 
inflamed, the well-meaning Ca- 
tholic, who would punish a 
man's body for the salvation of his 
soul, ultimately degenerates into 
that bloodiest and most cruel of 
all tyrannies, a tyranny over 
the mind. 

On the contrary, the liberal- 
minded man of feeling and phi- 
lanthropy, unless guided by pru- 
dence and expediency, becomes 
a latitudinarian, and a sceptic, 
and would ultimately introduce 
the most irrational and unfeeling 
of all despotisms. 

The following letter addressed 
to Mr. Voltaire from the late 
empress of Russia, during his 
spirited conduct in favour of the . 
family of Calas, must have highly 
gratified that ingenious French- 



The brightness of the 
northern star is a mere .Aurora 
Borealis; but the private man, 
who is an advocate fx the 
rights of nature, and a defender 
of oppressed innocence, will im- 
mortalize his name. 

You have attacked the great 
enemies 



CALAS, JOHN. 



31 



enemies of true religion and sci- 
ence, fanaticism, ignorance, and 
chicane : may your victory be 
complete. 

You desire some small relief 
for the family ; I should be bet- 
ter pleased if my inclosed bill of 
exchange could pass unknown; 
but if you think my name, un- 
harmonious as it is, may "be of 
use to the cause, I leave it 
to your discretion. 

Catharine. 

It is a melancholy truth, that 
while this disgraceful tragedy 
was performing, another instance 
of superstitious intolerance, and 
like this, ending in the death of 
two innocent persons, was ex- 
hibited in the same province at 
Castres, little more than forty 
miles from Thoulouse. 

Adjoining to that city, on a 
little farm which they owned 
and occupied themselves, lived 
the family ofSirven, consisting 
of the farmer, his wife, and three 
daughters, of whom one was 
married and pregnant, her hus- 
band by his employment being 
called to a distant province. 

Although of the Protestant 
religion, the youngest of his 
single daughters had been taken 
by force from her father's house, 
put into a convent and " told 
that she must conform to the 
Catholic faith, which was the 
only true religion. 



Finding the poor girl naturally 
attached to the tenets in which 
she had been educated, her in- 
structors told her it was the 
high road to hell, and insisti?ig 
that it was necessary to punish 
the body to save the soul, they 
taught her their better catechism, 
whipped her severely, and shut 
her up in a solitary cell. 

In a few weeks, in conse- 
quence of their persevering in 
what they called wholesome dis- 
cipline, the poor creature lost her 
senses, and escaping from her 
keepers, threw herself headlong 
into a well. 

It was immediately insisted 
on by the Catholics, and passed 
currrent, that her own family 
had destroyed her, it being an 
established rule with Protestants 
to murder every one who is sus- 
pected of any inclination to the 
Catholic Jail h. 

The populace was inflamed, 
Sirven did not dare to make his 
appearance, and having heard of 
the transaction at Thoulouse, was 
anxious to avoid similar treatment, 
as his house had been twice at- 
tacked. 

Expecting to be torn to pieces, 
he took an opportunity, when his 
infuriate enemies were retired to 
rest from their persecutions, to 
leave his house with his family. 

At the dead of night, on foot, 

in the severity of winter, and 

with a deep snow on the ground, 

the\< 



32 



CALAS, JOHN. 



they fled from their savage 
neighbours, and took the road 
to Switzerland, though scarcely 
knowing u hither to go. To add to 
Sirven's afflictions, his daughter 
was delivered of a dead child 
during the journey, evidently 
killed by the over-fatigue and 
horrors of its parent; urged for- 
ward by their remorseless hunt- 
ers, the frantic mother could not 
be persuaded that her child was 
dead, and travelled on, closely 
embracing the clay -cold infant 
in her arms. 

It is not easy to describe the 
exasperated fury of the zealots 
at Castres, when they found their 
intended victims had escaped, 
thev reproached each other for 
not having kept a guard during 
the night; to prove what they 
wished to do, the whole family 
were burnt in effigy; a pro- 
cess was issued against Sirven, 
his goods seized, his property 
confiscated, and the memory of 
an industrious, harmless, and 
x much injured family, loaded 
with infamy and reproach. 

The fugitives travelling by 
night, and concealing themselves 
in the day time, fortunately 
escaped the tygers, but did not 
" consider themselves as safe till 
they reached Switzerland. 

In another respect they were 
not less fortunate ; the benevo- 
lent friend and advocate of the 
family of Calas heard of Sirven's 
misfortunes, and powerfully in- 



terfered in their favour, but was 

shocked on being told that their 
cause should be re-heard, and 
that possibly they might be par" 
cloned; a virtuous, decent, in- 
nocent family reduced to beg- 
gary and ruin, with two indi- 
viduals of it murdered, for so in 
fact it was, is told it may he 
pardoned ! 

But the active benevolence of 
Voltaire did not rest satisfied 
with this answer, which seemed 
to be adding injury to insult; 
Mr. de Beaumont, who nobly 
and successfully defended the 
Calas family, also strongly in- 
terested himself, and tardy jus- 
tice ultimately took place. 

Perhaps the editor of this 
collection may be asked, as he 
formerly .was, why introduce 
stale narratives of popish perse- 
cution at a period when the 
Catholics, at least the majority 
of them, are tolerant, liberal, 
and disavow many of the obnox- 
ious, political and ecclesiastical 
maxims of the old superstition ? 

My reply then was and now 
is, that from the persons so de- 
scribed there is nothing to fear, 
but with the majority of the 
lower classes the case »s far 
otherwise ; the seeds of bigotry, 
intolerance, and rancour, are 
deeplv sown, and if the eman- 
cipation so much talked of and 
so ardently desired in our sister 
kingdom was granted, I have 
not a doubt, that in a few years 
a sub- 



CALVIN. 



33 



a subversion of protestant power, 
a revolution, and if we may 
judge by the late rebellion, 
another massacre would be the 
consequence. 

At the same time I am con- 
vinced, that the proceedings of 
the petitioners arise from the 
best, the purest, and the most 
patriotic motives ; honest them- 
selves, they think better of their 
fellow-men than they deserve ; 
differing widely in opinion with 
me as to the effects of the object 
of their hopes, they expect from 
a gratification of them the hap- 
piest consequences. 

But the experience and wisdom 
of ages is against them, as well 
as expediency and the present 
perverted and debauched state 
of men's minds. 

Independently of the proposed 
liberation being expressly con- 
trary to the king's coronation 
oath, no sincere, hearty, honest 
Catholic can in his heart agree, 
that professors and preachers of 
the true religion of the holy 
Catholic church should be subor- 
dinate in power, profit and 
emolument to hereticks, hateful 
to God and man, particularly 
when the hereticks are the mi- 
nority, in the proportion I believe 
of one to fifteen. 

^pALVIN— I am accused of 
^-^ having treated this cele- 

VOL. IV. 



brated theologian and eminent 
divine with harshness and inde- 
corum, and have received a long* 
an anonymous, but a well written 
letter on the subject, from the 
country in which his doctrines 
first predominated. 

I am told by the writer, and 
in latin which would not have 
discredited the correct and 
fluent pen of Calvin, whose 
Institutes and the dedication of 
them exhibit some of the best 
modern Latin I ever perused ; 
I am told that the Geneva re- 
former, when establishing the 
everlasting foundations of bis 
faith, knew well what he was 
doing, and proved himself not 
only an orthodox theologist 
treading closely in the footsteps 
of the evangelists, but a* re 1 
philosopher, well acquainted 
with the deep-seated motives 
of action, master of the human 
heart, and well skilled in con- 
ducting that wild beast - called 
man (I copy or rathei 1 soften my 
learned correspondent's words, 
homines naturd omnium lellua- 
rumferocissimosj through aland 
of temptation, to a tribunal which 
is to determine on his happiness 
or misery for all eternity. 

" But it is not merely on his 
unanswerable arguments and 
his undeviating coincidence with 
scripture, that I rest the claim of 
Calvin, fmagistri nostri claris- 
f simi) 



34 



CHATTERTON, THOMAS. 



simi) to superior excellence 
and sagacity (continues this 
energetic writer) \ I appeal with- 
out fear and without wishing to 
offend, to stubborn facts which 
present themselves on all sides, 
and to every day's experience in 
human life. 

" In the immense metropolis 
of Great Britain, in your popu- 
lous cities, and in your wealthy 
provincial towns, where let me 
ask is primitive Christianity, 
where are correct morals to be 
found ? I answer, in those socie- 
ties and in those communities 
where the doctrines of Calvin, 
unweakened and unsophisticated, 
are regularly preached, vigorously 
enforced, and implicitly believed. 

( f Where is the religious 
education of the rising generation 
so unceasingly attended to? where 
in general do children's entrance 
into life compensate for the 
pains bestowed ? where do they 
in general prove a solace and a 
comfort to their parents? — I an- 
swer, in p2/r£ v calvinistic societies, 
against which Arius, Socinius, 
and Hell, have leagued in vain. 

u With 2/5 as with you, in 
proportion as we depart from 
the unaccommodating orthodoxy 
of our immortal reformer, we 
lapse into Lixity of morals, and 
impurity of life. 

" Be assured Angle 

(my very pen itches, but I must 
not put in the adjective) nam 



collectanea cui titulus,. &c. &c* 
et prosunt et oblectant \ be as- 
sured that no discipline but the 
rigid one our master enjoins, will 
be found effectual in keeping a 
creature like man (" cui sto- 
machus vesani leonis^J steady in 
the path of duty ; in restraining 
his vicious appetites, in raising 
up and supporting fallen man." 

With this extract I close the 
article, for such reasoning, if 
supported ly fact, who can 
answer ? 

It is not the least of the sin- 
gularities in this fervent letter, 
that the pious writer should 
quote Lucretius, and apply to 
the reforming, the persecuting 
Calvin, a panegyric pronounced 
by the Roman poet on a brother 
philosopher, to whom an article 
is assigned in the present volume, 
Gentibus humanis 
Nil tamen hoc habuisse viro 

praeclarius. 
Nee sanctum magis, et mirum, 

carumque videtur. 
Carmina quinetiam divini pec- 
toris ejus 
Vociferantur, et exponunt prce- 

clara reperta, 
Ut vix humana videatu. stirpe 

creatus. 

CHATTERTGN, THO- 
MAS, the son of a school- 
master at Bristol, who died be- 
fore the birth of his son. 

In his childhood he was re- 
marked 



CHATTERTON, THOMAS: 



35 



marked for dullness in acquir- 
ing, or capricious unwillingness 
to learn, and at an age when 
most boys can read, he could not 
be prevailed on to tell the letters 
of his alphabet, till they were 
displayed before his eyes in the 
ornamented pages of an illumi- 
nated manuscript on vellum. 

This circumstance, when we 
become acquainted with his fu- 
ture conduct, is well authenti- 
cated, and may be considered as 
a remarkable fact. 

After this period, making 
the customary progress, he was 
educated in a charity-school 
at Bristol, and at the age of 
fourteen, placed as a writer in the 
office of an attorney in that city. 

In this place he devoted every 
moment he could snatch from 
business to general reading, 
antient poetry, and old romances. 

His paternal uncle having 
been sexton to the fine old 
church of St. Mary RedclifFe, 
had with gross impropriety, not 
to say dishonesty, taken a num- 
ber of old deeds, written on 
parchment, from a chest, which 
had for time immemorial been 
in a loft over a chapel adjoining 
to that church. 

Ignorantly conceiving them 
to be of no use, although they 
were in fact, deeds, conveyances, 
leases, and charters, connected 
with the endowment of the 



school and other charitable foun- 
dations, he had given them to 
Chatterton's father, who con- 
verted many of them to covers of 
copy and other books for the chil- 
dren who attended his school ; 
those which remained, were care- 
lessly thrown into the bottom of 
a large box, when Mrs. Chatter- 
ton, on the death of her husband, 
was under the necessity of re* 1 
moving to a cheap lodging* 

These parchments at an early 
period had engaged the attention 
of Thomas, and as collaterally 
connected with his business ot 
engrossing, he selected and 
copied those letters which dif- 
fered from the modern form of 
writing : having acquired a taste 
for heraldry and emblazoning, 
he also made Jac similes of many 
of the signatures, at the same 
time Copying the devices and 
arms on the old seals. 

Pleased with his new pursuit, 
and seeming already to have an 
idea floating in his mind that it 
might in some way be applied 
to purposes of fame or profit, he 
diligently practised it, and at 
length attained the art of copy- 
ing such documents on parch- 
ment, to which, and the ink 
with which they were written, he 
found means of communicating 
that peculiar discoloured appear- 
ance, mouldiness and smell, 
which with a common super- 
f 2 ficial 



36 



CHATTERTON, THOMAS. 



iicial observer might make them 
pass for writings executed many 

centuries past. 

This was a singular employ- 
ment and turn of mind in a youth 
scarcely sixteen, with a mind 
absorbed in literary pursuits, 
and as it afterwards proved over- 
flowing with poetical imagina- 
tion : although slightly ac- 
quainted with the learned lan- 
guages, he was observed not to 

' be deficient in classic imagery, 
for which he must have been 
indebted to the translations and 
other books he occasionally bor- 
rowed, or to the magic store- 
house of sterling genius. 

He had also commenced a 
correspondence with the propri- 
etors of several periodical pub- 
lications, in which were printed 
many poems and tales in verse, 
imitating the spelling and 
words of former times. Find- 
ing the confinement of an office 
unfavourable to his literary pur- 
suits, he hinted a wish to his 
London patrons, that they would 
procure for him employment in 
his favourite pursuits in the 
metropolis, and they promised to 
engage him. 

But previously to this fatal 
journey, which threw him loose 
on society, destroyed his peace, 
and shortened his life, he made 
trial of his skill, and produced 
-an old parchment, on which was 



written in antique spelling and 
obsolete words and letters, an ac- 
count of certain ceremonies made 
use of on opening a bridge at 
Bristol, also several fragments of 
black letter poetry ; but being 
closely questioned as to when 
and where he found them, and 
perhaps fearful of its interfering 
with his future projects, he con- 
fessed they were of his own fa- 
brication, and laughed at the 
persons on whom he had thus 
imposed. 

Meditating greater exploits, 
and impatient to realize his 
visions of aggrandizement, he 
flew on the wings of ardent 
hope and eager expectations to 
the fountain head of literature, 
science, wealth, and informa- 
tion. 

He was immediately employed 
by the publishers of several 
magazines, but finding his re- 
ceipt utterly inadequate to the 
necessary expences and super- 
fluous dissipation of London, his 
flattering prospects were soon 
clouded, and pecuniary embar- 
rassment awoke him from his 
infatuating dream. 

In the urgency of want he 
appliad to Mr. Horace ~ v alpole, 
who, in an age like the present, 
teeming with imposture and 
false pretence, received his ap- 
plications with doubt, distrust, 
and neglect ; although much 



CHATTERTON, THOMAS. 



37 



has been said and written on the 
subject, I see nothing in the 
transaction uncreditable to that 
pleasant writer and worthy 
man; that Chatterton was to be 
pitied cannot be denied, but is 
Mr. Walpole to be blamed for 
making use of his eyes, and 
exerting common sense ? 

Hopeless and forlorn, dejected 
and cast down, precisely in the 
same proportion that his hopes 
had before been unreasonably 
elevated, lost and forgotten in 
the unceasing bustle and con- 
fusion of an immense metropo- 
iis, despairing of God and de- 
testing man, this miserable 
youth, who might have been 
the ornament and comfort of 
his family, swallowed a dose of 
poison, scarcely at the dreadful 
moment eighteen years old, and 
less than three months after his 
arrival in the English capital! 

The poems produced by this 
young man, as written by Tho- 
mas Rowlie, a secular priest of 
the fifteenth century, and pub- 
lished with an engraved speci- 
men (London, Payne, 1777) 
produced a long controversy. 
Doctor Mills, dean of Exeter, 
and many respectable characters, 
insisted on their authenticity, 
and although it has been long 
decided by the scrupulous pre- 
cision of modern criticism, that 
these effusions of fancy were 



fabricated by Chatterton him- 
self, individuals are not want- 
ing, who are still of a different 
opinion. 

At a moment when the pub- 
lic mind was wavering, and the 
press hourly groaning with pub- 
lications on the subjects the 
question was introduced as col- 
laterally connected with his sub- 
ject, into the voluminous work 
of a gentleman, possessing in a 
high degree that intuitive rapid 
perception, superior to study, 
surer than reasoning, and cot- 
recter than reflection, called 
taste ; and uniting with it a 
large portion of minute informa- 
tion as an antiquary. 

" The whole," says this acute 
investigator of antient literature, 
Ci the whole is evidently a 
forgery, and not skilfully ma- 
naged : the letters, although of 
antiquated form, differ essen- 
tially from the alphabet in use at 
the period to which they are 
attributed; I have compared 
them with several authentic 
manuscripts written in the reign 
of king Edward the fourth, and 
they are wholly unlike. 

" The characters in the same 
piece are not uniform ; some 
shaped like the modern round- 
hand, others, like the antient 
text and court hands; it is true, 
that the parchment has an old 
appearance, but it has been evi- 
dently 



38 



CHATTERTON, THOMAS. 



dently stained with some colour- 
ing substance, which come s off 
on rubbing; the ink of the 
manuscript has also undergone 
a similar process. 

" As to the internal evidence, 
and the impossibility of a boy of 
sixteen so educated, being able 
to produce such poems, I re- 
ply in the first place, that the 
forgery is performed by a work- 
man only superficially acquainted 
with the nature of the task he 
had undertaken, the obsolete 
words and mode of expression 
which he has adopted were not 
in use in that early unpolished 
state of the English language; 
the structure of the sentences 
and diction, though interwoven 
with a patchwork of old spelling, 
and uncouth words, are palpa- 
bly and precisely the phraseology 
of modern times. 

6C I appeal to my readers if 
the following compositions in 
which I have slightly modern- 
ized a few expressions, could 
possibly have been written in 
the fifteenth century ; at a period, 
when without a single exception, 
the style and language of the 
English verse-makers, I will 
not call them poets, was harsh, 
prosaic, obscure, and frequently 
unintelligible. 

SONG TO iELLA, 

LORD OF THE CASTtE OF BPISTOL. 

O thou, or what remains of thee, 
iElla, the darling of futurity, 



Let this my song bold as thy 

courage be, 
As everlasting to posterity. 
O thou, where'er thy bones do 

rest, 
Or spirit bold delighteth best; 
Whether in the bloody plain, 
On aheap of bodies slain; 
Or prancing o'er some flowery 

mead, 
Upon thy cole-black fav'rite 

steed ; 
Or fiery round the Minster glare, 
Be Bristol still thy constant care; 
Like Avon's stream encircle it 

around, 
From force and fraud protect thy 

native ground, 
Guard it from foes and all con- 
suming fire, 
'Till in one general blaze, the 

universe expire. 

CHORUS, 

IN THE TRAGEDY OF JELL A. 

ROBIN. 

Alice, gentle Alice, stay, 
Tell me why so quick away; 
Turn thee to thy shepherd swain, 
Turn thee, Alice, back again. 

ALICE. 

No, deceiver, I will go, 
Like the silver-footed do^ 
Lightly tripping o'er the lees, 
Seeking shelter 'mongst the 
trees. 

ROBIN'. 

See the grassy daisied ground, 
And the streamlet gurgling round, 
See 



CHATTERTON, THOMAS. 



39 



See the sun-beam gliit'ring low, 
Turn thee, Alice, do not go. 

ALICE. 

No, I've heard my grandame 

say , 
In this wanton month of May, 
Her All-: never should be seen 
Sitting with Rubin on the green. 

ROBIN. 

Sit thee, sweetheart, sit and hear, 
The blackbird's notes so loud 

and' clear; 
High o'er thy head the wood- 
bines civep, 
None can see but harmless sheep ; 
It any come my dog will tell, 
The wether too will shake his 
bell. 

ALICE. 

Do you not the woodlark hear ? 
He twitters glutly in my ear, 
In a soft melodious cry, 
Mischief's near when Robin's 
nigh ! 

ROBIN. 

Round the oak is ivy twin'd, 
Like that, to me thou shalt be 

join'd; 
Come, and do not skittish be, 
Sit with Robin 'neath the tree. 

ALICE. 

Let go my gown, you boist'rous 

lout, 
Leave me, or quickly I'll cry 

out; 
Out upon you, let me go, 
Robin, my mother this shall 

know; 



Such a thing shall n'eer be done, 
Till the priest hath made us one. 

ROBIN. 

I agree, and thus I plight 

My faith, the priest shall do thee 

right ; 
Hand and heart and all that's 

mine, 
At the altar shall be thine. 



MINSTRELS SOXG, 

PREVIOUSLY TO DB.OWNINC HERSELF. 

O sing for me a roundelay, 
Dance no more at holy-dav, 
Drop the briny tear for me, 
My love lies dead 
In death's cold bed, 
All under the willow tree. 

Black his hair as winter's night, 
Ruddy his face as morning light, 
White his skin as new- tall 'n 

snow, 
Cold he lies in earth below : 
Soon upon his grave, new made, 
Shall my clay-cold corpse be 

laid. 
Is there not one saint to save 
A hapless, grief-worn, lonely 

maid ? 

My love lies dead 
In death's cold bed, 
All under the willow tree. 

Water-witches, bear me straight, 
Do not make my true love wait; 
Soon oblivion's stream shall close 
Over me and all my woes : 

My 



40 



CHATTERTON, THOMAS. 



My love lies dead 
In death's cold bed, 
All under the willow tree. 

•' I appeal to my readers," says 
the author I have before quoted, 
" if the cast of thought, senti- 
ments, and structure of these 
and other passages I could pro- 
duce, are antient ; I am grossly 
mistaken if they are not exactly 
the poetry of modern times, 
thinly and ineffectually dis- 
guised in obsolete spelling and 
antique words. 

" Chatterton, from his child- 
hood, was fond of reading and 
scribbling, and many pieces 
which he produced before he 
was fifteen years old, without 
any motive or interest that could 
induce him to deceive, were con- 
sidered as surprizing productions; 
the periodic publications to which 
he contribu'ed, exhibit a num- 
ber of similar pieces, acknow- 
ledged by himself to be his own, 
equal in brilliancy and smooth- 
ness, and the majority of them 
pretending to be effusions of 
and descriptions of remote 
times. 

" Persons in the habit of 
reading the works of our old 
poets must have observed, that 
their great characteristic is in- 
equality; animated descriptions, 
splendid similes, poetical images, 
and striking thoughts, do not 



often occur, and when they do, 
are always succeeded by long, 
tedious, prosaic, and uninterest- 
ing passages; the poems attri- 
buted to Row lie on the contrary 
are every where well supported, 
they never exhibit dullness or 
insipidity in style or sentiment, 

" In the Battle of Hast- 
ings, said to be translated from 
the Saxon of Turgot, who died 
fijty ijears before it was fought ; 
a writer who lived at the time 
would have related some cir- 
cumstance not generally known, 
his narrative would have been 
minute and circumstantial ; but 
the description in the piece 
produced by Chatterton is gene- 
ral, and the management pro- 
bably taken from Pope's Homer. 

Ci This piece would have de- 
tected itself, if Chatterton had 
not, as T find he did, owned 
that the first part was spurious; 
he who could perform the first 
part of this forgery, proved him- 
self fullv able to write every line 
in the whole collection. 

" It has been triumphantly 
remarked by the supporters of 
the authenticity of Rowlie's po- 
ems, that the names of the 
chiefs who fought in this battle 
correspond with the roll of Bat- 
tle Abbey; they seem to forget 
that this record is copied in Hol- 
lingsheed's Chronicle, which 
we know Chatterton had perused. 
"To 



CHEEK, SIR JOHN. 



41 



14 To conclude, it may be ob- 
served, that the qualifications of 
the Bristol artist for the task he 
undertook, and his inducements 
to forge, naturally arose from 
his character and the mode of 
life he adopted ; he was an ad- 
venturer full of project and in- 
vention, professedly engaging in 
the business of literature to get 
money, and compelled to sub- 
sist by expedients. 

« From what he had seen 
and heard, he must have been 
fully aware that any genuine re- 
mains of English poetry rescued 
from long oblivion, would be 
received with fond enthusiasm 
and strong interest, and secure 
a profitable sale; but although 
we are deprived of some pleasure 
by the force of irresistible con- 
viction, the solid satisfaction 
remains of having detected and 
guarded the public against ar- 
tifice and imposture." 

This satisfaction it must be 
confessed is considerably di- 
minished by the regret every 
humane person must feel for 
talents so perverted,, powers so 
misapplied, and the untimely 
fate of the juvenile fabricator, 
who, patronized and supported, 
might have reflected honour on 
his country, and have been a 
comfort to his aged parent. 

CHEEK, SIR JOHN, a na- 
tive of Cambridge, edu- 
vol. IV. 



cated at St. John's college, and 
considered as a good Greek 
scholar, at a period when to 
read and perfectly understand 
that language was no common 
attainment. 

Qualified with superior learn- 
ing, he presumed to differ in 
opinion with Bishop Gardiner, 
chancellor of the university, on 
certain apparently unimportant 
points relating to etymology and 
verbal pronunciation; this roused 
the indignation of that haughty 
churchman, who considered his 
power equally absolute on gram- 
matical questions, as he wished 
it to be in ecclesiastical matters. 

On this occasion, a singular 
mandate was officially issued, in 
which minute and precise rules 
were laid down for declining, 
pronouncing, and spelling words; 
diphthongs were also a source of 
no small vexation to the imperi- 
ous prelate of Winchester. 

The subject of this article was 
appointed tutor to prince Ed- 
ward, and became gentleman of 
his chamber, when that amiable 
vouth ascended the throne ; but 
on the accession of the intolerant 
Mary, he was committed to pri- 
son for avowing the tenets of 
Luther. 

By the connivance or corrup- 
tion of his keepers, having 
escaped from confinement, he 
fled to the Continent, visited the 
principal cities of Germany, 
g and 



42 



CHIVALRY. 



and wrote a defence of his literary 
opinions against the magisterial 
edict of his unrelenting enemy, 
Gardiner. 

The manuscript falling into 
the hands of Coelius Curio, a 
learned man, mentioned in the 
article Olympia; he was so 
much pleased with the good 
sense and unassuming love of 
truth in the Englishman's pro- 
duction, that he printed it with- 
out the author's knowledge ; 
this proceeding greatly irritated 
the bishop of Winchester, who 
eagerly watched for and soon 
found an opportunity of grati- 
fying his revenge. 

Sir John being naturally de- 
sirous of seeing his wife, from 
whom he had been long se- 
parated, appointed a meeting at 
Antwerp; this intelligence reach- 
ing the ears of Gardiner, by the 
permission and authority-of Phi- 
lip, king of Spain, and husband 
to queen Mary, the unfortunate 
fugitive was seized and conveyed 
a prisoner to England. 

Gardiner w T as delighted with 
the prospect of what appears to 
have been with him a supreme 
pleasure, the putting to death 
his political and religious oppo- 
nents; but his cruel purpose was 
defeated by a want of firmness 
in the object of his vengeance. 

Soon after his arrival in En- 
gland, Lady Cheek presented a 



petition to her majesty, in which 
her husband avowed a detesta- 
tion of his religious errors, and 
submitted himself to the queen's 
mercy, who granted him a par- 
don : having thus saved himself 
from death by abjuring the re- 
ligious faith he had professed, 
he was restored to liberty, but 
never to peace of mind. 

Compunction and sorrow for 
the dishonourable and retrograde 
step he had taken, embittered 
the remainder of his life; on 
this occasion his sufferings must 
have been rendered still more 
acute, by beholding daily and 
hourly before his eyes so many 
saints, martyrs, and holy men, 
suffering with exemplary firm- 
ness in the devouring flames ; he 
felt the anguish of a wounded 
spirit, and in a few months 
died of a broken heart. 

CHIVALRY, a military in- 
stitution, whose downfall 
Mr. Burke so eloquently la- 
mented in the characteristic lan- 
guage of romance. 

Whether the advantages of 
commerce abroad, and a general 
spirit of agricultural industry at 
home, are not ample equiva- 
lents, is a point not to be dis- 
cussed in this place. 

This enthusiastic passion in 

which courtesy and violence, 

love and religion, bravery and 

submission, 



CHIVALRY. 



43 



submission, were so remarkably- 
blended, seems to have attained 
its highest pitch in England, 
during the fourteenth century, 
and principally in the brilliant 
reign of Edward the third, when 
a romantic nation was governed 
by a romantic king. 

As remarkably illustrating the 
spirit of those times, a trans- 
action has been preserved, which 
took place soon after the death 
of that victorious monarch, 
when his grandson and succes- 
sor, that unfortunate or rather 
that imprudent prince, Richard 
the second, sat on the English 
throne. 

The affair of which I wish to 
speak was a personal alterca- 
tion which took place between 
the dukes of Hereford and Nor- 
folk; the former accusing the 
latter of having- uttered many 
seditious expressions against the 
king in a private conversation. 

This charge, winch in modern 
times would have been officially 
conducted by the king's attorney- 
general in a court of justice, was 
long and warmly contested in 
council, and no third person be- 
ing present to corroborate the 
evidence of Hereford, it was de- 
termined, that the point at issue 
should be decided by single 
combat. 

At the time and place ap- 
pointed, the parties met; Here- 



ford, the challenger, first ap- 
peared on a white charger, sump- 
tuously caparisoned and armed 
at all points; as he approached 
the lists, the marshal demanded 
of him who he was, to which he 
answered " I am Henry of 
Lancaster, duke of Hereford, 
and according to my duty ap- 
pear this day to make good my 
charge against Thomas Mow- 
bray, duke of Norfolk, who i's 
a false traitor to God, the king, 
this realm, and me." 

Then taking' the oath that his 
quarrel was just, he desired to 
enter the lists; his request be- 
ing granted, he sheathed his 
sword, lowered his beaver, and 
crossing himself on the forehead, 
seized his lance, passed the bar- 
rier, alighted, and sat down on 
a chair of green velvet placed at 
one end of the lists. 

Hereford had scarcely taken 
his seat, when the king entered 
the field with great pomp and 
ceremony, splendidly attired, at- 
tended by a long train of peers, 
courtiers, and noble personages, 
who had repaired to England 
from France and other foreign 
courts to view the spectacle; the 
royal procession closed with ten 
thousand men at arms, who 
were properly disposed and ar- 
ranged to prevent tumult and 
preserve order. 

His majesty being seated in 
G2 his 



44 



CHIVALRY. 



his chair of state, canopied 
and richly ornamented, a king 
at arms proclaimed that none 
but such as were appointed to 
marshal the field should pre- 
sume to touch the lists, on pain 
of death; each matter thus 
declared by proclamation, being 
preceded and followed by a 
flourish of trumpets, after a 
pause of silence and attention. 

A herald gorgeously and 
somewhat heavily arrayed in the 
ensigns of his office next ad- 
vanced, and made proclamation 
in the following form of words, 
and in a loud voice : — 

Cl Thomas Mowbray, duke 
of Norfolk," which he pro- 
nounced three times slowly and 
distinctly, " Thomas Mowbray, 
duke of Norfolk, behold here 
Henry of Lancaster, duke of 
Hereford, who hath this day ap- 
peared and is now entered the 
lists to perform his devoir against 
thee, on pain of being counted 
false and recreant/' 

The duke of Norfolk immedi- 
ately rode to the barrier, mounted 
on a barb ; his coat of arms was 
of crimson velvet, embroidered 
with lions of silver and golden 
mulberry trees; having taken 
his oath before the constable 
and marshal, the barrier was 
raised and his grace entered the 
field, exclaiming, in an elevated 



and firm tone of voice, God 

DEFEND THE RIGHT. 

Norfolk now alighted from 
his horse, and was conducted to 
a chair of crimson velvet, on 
which he seated himself, facing 
his antagonist, but at the op- 
posite end of the lists. 

A marshal next advanced, 
and having measured their lances, 
delivered one to the challenger, 
and sent the other by a knight 
to the duke of Norfolk ; procla- 
mation was then made that they 
should prepare for the combat. 

The horses being each led 
forth by a page, suitably and 
richly apparelled, they both 
mounted at the same time, closed 
their beavers, fixed their lances, 
and a charge being sounded, 
the duke of Hereford began his 
career with violence and ap- 
parent animosity, but before he 
could meet his antagonist, the 
king threw down his warder, 
and the heralds interposing and 
seizing their lances prevented 
further proceeding on the part 
of the dukes. 

Richard ordered both parties 
to be taken into custody, an^ a 
few days after banished Hereford 
for ten years, and the duke of 
Norfolk for life. 

The king's conduct on this 

occasion has been condemned 

by a modern writer, as unjust, 

absurd, 



CHIVALRY. 



45 



absurd, and consistent with the 
characteristic folly of his life. 

Yet in any other king or any 
other man it might have been 
accounted a wise and philoso- 
phical interposition to stop so 
cruel and irrational a mode of 
settling disputes, in which gene- 
ral equity or individual justice 
could have no sort of influence; 
a method of decision by which 
strong muscular powers, a met- 
tlesome steed, or a well-tempered 
lance, might prostrate an inno- 
cent and injured man at the feet 
of an unprincipled and cruel des- 
perado, v\ho relying on a ner- 
vous arm, or superior dexterity 
in military equitation, might thus 
set at defiance the laws of God 
and man. 

But although the laws of 
chivalry had many evils and 
some imperfections, it cannot 
be denied, that in the precise 
state of society and manners, 
when they were most prevalent, 
their influence was in many res- 
pects desirable and salutary ; 
they produced a mild species of 
liberty and equality, the equality 
of honour and the liberty which 
did not degrade a gentleman; 
they humbled proud independ- 
ence, and coerced savage ferocity. 
The different kingdoms of 
modern Europe were then, in form 
or in effect, divided into petty 
sovereignties, and each lord or 



baron exercised over the vassals 
of his district almost royal pre- 
rogatives ; exacting personal ser- 
vice, maintaining a military 
force, and considering himself 
as fully justified and legally au- 
thorized to lead them in hostile 
array against his neighbours, on 
any call of avarice, ambition, or 
revenge. 

Under this state of things the 
feudal system would naturally 
degenerate into a system of 
feuds, and afford apt occasion 
for indulging malignant pas- 
sions ; but fortunately for man- 
kind, the evil in some degree 
produced a remedy, the enthu- 
siasm of chivalry suddenly 
blazed forth, checked with a 
gentle but irresistible power the 
haughty lord or the successful 
warrior in his impetuous career, 
and arrested ambition, avarice, 
lust, insolence, and revenge, by 
the salutary restraints of religion, 
gallantry, and courtesy, that 
cheap defence of nations, " that 
unbought grace of life/' 

After a revolution of five 
hundred years, duelling, evi- 
dently founded on the laws of chi- 
valry, maintains despotic sway: 
though condemned by moralists 
and divines, and pregnant with 
domestic calamity, legislators, 
statesmen, philosophers, and 
warriors, submissively yielding 
to its mandates, have confirmed 
its 



46 



CHURCHYARD, THOMAS. 



its utility, if not by actual open 
avowal, at least by tacit acknow- 
ledgment, and the mild sen- 
tences pronounced by our courts 
of justice against the survivors 
of those, who have fallen in 
these more than civil wars. 

CHURCHYARD, THO- 
MAS, a native of Shrews- 
bury, in the reign of king 
Henry the eighth, "addicted 
to letters from his youth, and 
taught by his father to sweeten-* 
the labour of grammatical stud- 
ies by playing at intervals on a 
lute." 

Some method of attaching 
him, although he possessed quick 
parts, seems to have been neces- 
sary, "for at the age of seven- 
teen it became matter of doubt 
whether his head or his heels 
were most restless ." 

At this period, a fond mother 
imprudently furnishing him with 
money, that great relaxer of 
juvenile exertion, he laid aside 
his books and took a journey to 
London, where he became a 
*requente/ of the court and other 
places of gay resort, was sought 
after as a facetious companion, 
and acquired the character of a 
roistering fellow. 

Meeting with those who assisted 
him in emptying his purse, his 
head soon became cool; his pa- 



rents, who quickly saw the mater* 
nalerror, refused a remittance, and 
Thomas entered into the service 
of the celebrated earl of Surrey, 
whose muse was inspired by the 
charms of Gerald ine, the en- 
chanting daughter of Fitzgerald, 
earl of Kildare. 

He was the confidential page 
between the lover and his mis- 
tress, to whom several sonnets, 
addressed by the earl, are still ex- 
tant; but the amiable and in- 
teresting Surrey did not live to 
gain his mistress, or to afford 
effectual patronage to Church- 
yard. 

He had however collected a 
little coin, when his 6i old vaga- 
ries" returned and again set him 
rambling; for the purpose of 
indulging this propensity, he em- 
braced the military line, and 
trailed a pike for three cam- 
paigns in Scotland and Flanders : 
he was taken prisoner, and un- 
derwent many difficulties and 
hardships, from which he was 
at length delivered by virtue of 
the vivacity of his discourse, and 
the graces of his person, which 
procuring him general favour 
with the wives and daughters of 
his enemies, they furnished him 
with the means of escape. 

He returned to England sickly 

and pennyless; prudence, the 

hard-nursed parish child of 

poverty. 



CHURCHYARD, THOMAS. 



47 



poverty, once more returned, and 
he became part of the househe'd 
of Robert, earl of Leicester. 

Churchyard appears to have 
been disappointed at not finding 
his new master thoughtless like 
himself, dissipated and extrava- 
gant; he complained of the dif- 
ference between the prudent 
Leicester and the generous Sur- 
rey; forgetting, as men of his 
stamp generally do, that previ- 
ous to generosity, we ought to be 
just. 

•He occasionally visited his 
friends in Shrewsbury, where he 
soothed chagrin by his pen 
and frequent draughts of Shrop- 
shire ale, which the editor has 
found potent, but stupefying. 

Perhaps it was from too free 
a use of this fluid that he was 
accounted a rhymer rather than 
a poet. 

Churchyard was a copious 
writer; of his productions the 
majority are departed to the land 
of oblivion, some of them are 
extant in a collection famous in 
its day, called the myrrour 

FOR MAGISTRATES, of which 

three editions, 1559, 1587, 
and 1610, have been printed; 
he also contributed to another 
poetical compilation, once in 
great repute, called The Paradise 
of Dainty Devises ; three Epis- 
tles of Ovid's Tristria were done 
by Churchyard into English 



verse. The following are the 
titles of some other of his 
works : — 

A Chip from the Old Block 
—1575. 

The Spider and the Gout. 
The Unhappy Life of Sir 
Simon Burley. 

The Friar and Shoemaker's 
Wife. 

A Light Bundle of Lively 
Discourses — 1 580. 

A Description of a Paper 
Mill, built near Darthford, by a 
High German. 

Churchyard, who is said to 
have been a fond or a despairing 
lover during his whole life, to 
use the words of his biographer, 
.to whom I am indebted for al- 
most the whole of this article, 
visited his namesake, in other 
words, was buried in 1602. 

A lady, who has occasionally 
seen, but sometimes finds it 
difficult to read my productions 
in manuscript, objects strongly 
to the word roystering, intro- 
duced at the beginning of this 
article; I alledge in vain that 
it is actually and precisely the 
word of the author from whom 
I compile; this does not sa- 
tisfy, and I am required at my 
peril to produce au instance, in 
which any good English writer 
has used it. 

A few days after meeting my 

fair critic, I repeated to her -the 

following 



48 



COCONAS. 



following lines of Swift, who 
with all his defects of temper 
and wrong political opinions, 
was a correct composer; they 
are in one of his squibs against 
Wood and his halfpence : — 
" Salmoneus, as the Grecian 

tale is, 
Was a mad coppersmith at Elis : 
Up before day at morning peep, 
No creature in the lane could 

sleep : 
Among a set of roystering fellows, 
Would spend whole evenings at 

the ale-house." 

COCONAS, a favourite and 
confidential friend of the 
duke of Alencon, who was bro- 
ther to Charles the ninth, king 
of France : against this mo- 
narch, the subject of our present 
article was accused of entertain- 
ing treasonable designs, and prac- 
tising unlawful arts. 

At the moment of suspicion 
he was seized, and with several 
of his companions put to the 
torture, for the purpose of pro- 
curing further information. 

Certain little images formed 
of wax, found in their possession, 
excited considerable attention 
in an age devoted to the opposite 
extremes of superstition and in- 
fidelity; an age which gave 
credit to tales of magic, and 
dreaded the operations of witch- 
craft. 



The adversaries of these un- 
happy men insisted, that the 
waxen images, particularly one 
with needles driven through its 
breast in the direction of the 
heart, were representations of 
the king, over which they had 
read magic incantations, and 
practised infernal mysteries ; in 
the hope of gradually under- 
mining his majesty's health, 
and paving the way for their 
patron, the duke of Alencpn, to 
the Gallic throne. 

It was in vain that the prison- 
ers protested their innocence of 
the crimes alledged against them, 
and their attachment to the 
king, by whose favour they had 
been placed in the service of his 
brother; they proved that the 
images in question had been 
purchased of an astrologer, 
whom they had consulted on the 
best method of softening the 
heart of an obdurate mistress. 

In proof of the truth of this 
allegation, they referred without 
scruple to the images which 
were found in every instance to 
represent women. 

Their defence was thought 
insufficient, and as it was more 
important at that period to im- 
press terror than examine mi- 
nutelv, they suffered an ignomi- 
nious death. 

The artist who furnished the 

waxen images (imaghinculas 

cere as' 



COCONAS. 



49 



cereas) exciting fear or awaken- 
ing resentment, was also taken 
into custody, and sentenced to 
the gallies, but he found means 
of evading punishment by fa- 
vour of the queen ; his story is 
short, and sufficiently remark- 
able. 

The name of this dealer in 
supernatural gifts was Cosmo 
Rugieri, a native of Florence, 
who finding the Italian soil not 
sufficiently productive of follies 
or of crimes, emigrated to France, 
and settling in Paris, drew large 
sums from the purses of the 
nobility, gentry and others, by 
casting their nativities, and an- 
swering lawful questions. 

On these occasions, the re* 
plies made to his credulous fol- 
fowers were favourable or un- 
favourable, exactly in propor- 
tion to the price they paid. 

Previously to the transaction 
which is here related, he had 
been applied to by her majesty, 
concerning the future conduct 
of Henry the fourth, when king 
of Navarre, and of the prince of 
Conde ; his reply, after due con- 
sideration, was that their de- 
meanour would be loyal and 
pacific. 

It is remarkable, and con- 
firmed by collateral evidence, 
that this prediction of a judicial 
astrologer, actually saved the 
lives of those eminent persons, 

VOL. IV. 



as it had been previously re* 
solved to put them both to 
death ; on this occasion, the 
professor gave a hint to the par- 
ties, earnestly requesting that 
they would not by their conduct 
falsify what he had foretold; 
for, that the answer given was 
founded rather on his hopes and 
the affection he entertained for 
them, than on any certain fore- 
knowledge he possessed; such 
questions being leyond the reach 
of his art to tamper with, or re» 
solve. 

These words prove^ that like 
another studier of the occult 
sciences, to whom an article is 
assigned in this collection, Ru- 
gieri did not believe in what he 
taught; yet such was the gene- 
ral infatuation, he amassed con- 
siderable wealth, and though 
frequently interrupted by the 
interposition of the magistrate, 
lived to extreme old age. 

But although he was sur- 
rounded by absurd credulity and 
childish superstition, he is said 
to have exhibited in himself a 
shocking instance of scepticism 
and atheistic depravity. 

In his last moments, those 
awful moments which generally 
strip from human vanity all its 
disguises, a minister of the gos- 
pel was introduced by a well- 
meaning friend ; but the dying 
man obstinately refused to con- 
st vers* 



30 



COMMON-PLACE JOKES. 



verse with the friendly divine, 
declaring, almost with his last 
breath, that prudence, that 
golden art of taming every in- 
cident of human life to good ac- 
count, was the 6nly God he 
adored ; that malignant pas- 
sions, folly, and vice, were the 
only daemons whose existence he 
would ever acknowledge. 

With these daring words, and 
under these unpropitious impres- 
sions, he boldly ventured on a 
world unknown ; forgetting that 
his system of theology converted 
the Creator of the universe into 
an undescribable something, an 
abstracted quality of mind, a 
sort of non-entity; when reason 
and nature without the solacing 
aid of revelation clearly point 
out the Divine Artificer of the 
world, as A being of infinite 

POWER, WISDOM, AND MERCY. 

COMMON-PLACE 
JOKES, on religion, law, 
war, physic, and marriage. 

More than one example has 
been given in this collection, to 
prove that deists, infidels, and 
freethinkers, do not exactly hold 
all the tenets they profess. 

To make lawyers and their 
profession a source of satire, 
invective, misrepresentation, and 
reproach, is common in most 
jovial companies; this charge 
has also been . alledged against 



the editor of the present page; 
if well founded, he is and must 
be an ungrateful and unreason- 
able man, for he has found in 
special attornies and barristers, 
some of the most agreeable and 
useful of his associates. 

Indeed, when our persons and 
property are invaded, we make a 
sorry figure without them. 

To abuse the medical tribe, to 
laugh at the family apothecary, 
and to ridicule pills, potions and 
gally-pots, has been thought fair 
from the days of Dryden and 
Garth ; yet in the hour of danger, 
sickness, and distress, we send 
for them with anxious haste. 

The military spirit has been 
for ages the subject of declama- 
tion to philosophers, historians, 
moralists, and poets; one author 
has not scrupled to call them 
the plague and reproach of man- 
kind; yet under our present 
circumstances, and while man 
continues to be a singularly con- 
trasted compound of vice and 
virtue, weakness and magnani- 
mity, how and where should we 
have been without our present 
patriotic and well disciplined 
army ? 

The correct manners, and in 
many instances the laudable con- 
duct of quakers in private life, 
merit approbation, but they 
would be crushed or annihilated 
by the first troop of unprincipled 
dec- 



CONCANNEN, MATTHEW. 



51 



desperadoes, who might chuse 
to attack them ; and does not 
the general conduct of mankind 
in the mass afford a strong 
proof, that they would be at- 
tacked ? 

To ridicule marriage and en- 
courage nuptial infidelity was 
once the burthen of their song, 
with play-writers, novelists, and 
poets; yet of those who write 
and those who read their per- 
formances with such applause, 
how very few could be named, 
who at some period of their 
lives have not entered into the 
marriage state, or ardently de- 
sired it ? 

In reply, it may be observed 
and has been said by a lady, who 
has often contributed to the 
amusement of my readers, that 
all this is very true, but Mr. 
Common-Place Book, would you 
deprive us of an innocent laugh ? 

By no means, I only wish 
merry folks to recollect, that 
ridicule is not the test of truth, 
that we may laugh at our best 
friends, and our best interests, 
till we cease to value and almost 
despise them. 

A case in point is upon record 4 } 
a well known profligate, who 
repented as others have done, 
when it was too late, was visited 
in his last hours by a neighbour- 
ing clergyman, intimate for 



many years with his family, and 
in the days of uncorrupted youth 
an associate of the dying man $ 
a short but interesting conver- 
sation took place, which con- 
cluded with the ecclesiastics of- 
fering up ardent prayers for his 
recovery or his repentance. 

The sinking sinner repeatedly 
suggesting doubts if it was pos- 
sible for the Almighty to accept 
and admit so foul an offender 
into the realms of everlasting 
bliss, the minister proceeded 
to quote several passages from 
the New Testament, strongly in 
favour of mercy and forgiveness. 

He was suddenly amazed and 
interrupted in this rational and 
humane work by the offender's 
exclaiming, and apparently in 
great agitation, "My dear sir, 
let me intreat you to forbear, 
every word you repeat from that 
much injured book, plants new 
daggers in my heart ; there is 
scarcely a passage in it, which I 
and my profane companions 
have not reviled and made a 
joke of in our hours of revelry 
and carousing, by which means 
I have poisoned what would 
otherwise at this terrible moment 
be an inestimable source of 
comfort ! Y* 

CONCANNEN, MAT- 
THEW, one of the mem- 
h 2 be rs 



52 



CONCANNEN, MATTHEW. 



bers of a literary club, who 
excited the satirical vengeance 
of Pope. 

Concannen would long since 
have been forgotten, except in 
the Dunciad, had not a singular 
circumstance brought his name 
again before the public; Dr.* 
Knight, librarian to the British 
Museum, having in the year 
1750 taken a house in Crane- 
court; while it was repairing* 
the persons employed informed 
him, that in a recess by the fire- 
side of an upper room, covered 
with canvas and papered, but 
which had once been a closet, 
they had discovered a number 
of dusty papers. 

They were deposited by his 
direction in a place of safety, 
and when the doctor took pos- 
session, to examine his treasure 
was the occasional employment 
of a leisure hour; covered by a 
heap of old bills, receipts, and 
other uninteresting documents, 
he found an original letter from 
doctor Warburton, who, at the 
time of writing it, was an attor- 
ney at Newark, in Nottingham- 
shire; it was addressed to the 
subject of our present article, 
who at a certain time probably 
lodged in the house, which had 
formerly been let in separate 
apartments. 

Although not, strictly speak- 
ing, his property, Dr. Knight 



considering it as an aliquot part 
of his dwelling, preserved the 
paper ; it afterwards came into 
the possession of Dr. Mark 
Akenside, an eminent whig- 
poet, and author of "The Plea- 
sures of the Imagination ;" and 
ultimately passed into the hands 
of the acute and indefatigable 
Mr. Malone, by whom it was 
laid before the public. 

The circumstance though tri- 
fling was curious, that the future 
editor and panegyrist of Pope 
should have been actually in* 
troduced to a society of persons, 
who had grossly reviled him ; 
that he should thankfully ac- 
knowledge this introduction as 
an honour and a favour ; that he 
should join with them in abusing 
his future patron, accuse him of 
plagiarism and a want of genius ; 
and finally, that he should write 
notes to a malignant personal 
satire, in which his old friends 
were virulently attacked. 

Little accidents sometimes are 
productive of important changes ; 
had the letter in question been 
ever seen or heard of by the 
irritable and easily exasperated 
translator of Homer, Warburton 
would himself have been handed 
down to everlasting ridicule in 
the Dunciad, he would never 
have defended the Essay on Man, 
against Crousaz ; his introduc- 
tion to the wealthy niece of Mr. 
Allen 



CONCANNEN, MATTHEW. 



,53 



Allen would not have taken 
place, and the humble Notting- 
hamshire attorney would never 
have ascended an ecclesiastic 
throne, in the cathedral of Glou- 
cester : the letter has been talked 
of so much, that I had almost 
forgotten to transcribe it. 

Newark^ Jan, 3d, 1726. 
DEAR sib, 

Having had no more 
regard for those papers which I 
spoke of and promised to Mr. 
Theobald than just what they 
deserved, I in vain sought for 
them through a number of loose 
papers that had the same kind 
of abortive birth. 

I used to make it one good 
part of my amusement in read- 
ing the English poets, those of 
them I mean whose vein flows 
regularly as well as clearly, to 
trace them to their sources, and 
to observe what ore, as well as 
dirt, they brought down with 
them. 

Dryden, I have often had oc- 
casion to observe, borrows for 
want of leisure, and Pope for 
want of genius, Milton from 
pride, and Addison through 
modesty. 

And now I am speaking of 
the latter, that you and Mr. 
Theobald may see of what kind 
those idle collections are, and to 



g?ve you my notion of what we 
may safely pronounce an imita- 
tion ; for it is not I presume the 
same train of ideas that follow 
in the same description of an 
antient and a modern, where 
nature, when attended to, always 
supplies the same stores, which 
will authorize us to pronounce 
the latter an imitation, for as 
Terence has observed, nihil est 
dictum, quod non sit prius dic- 
tum : for these reasons I say, 
I give myself the pleasure of set- 
ting down some imitations I ob- 
served in the Cato of Addison : — 

A day, an hour of virtuous liberty 
Is worth a whole eternity of 

bondage. ,,_,. 

° Addison, 

Quod si immortalitas conse^ 
queretur praesentis periculi fu- 
gam, tamen eo magis ea fugienda 
esse videretur, quo diuturnior 
esset servitus. 

Tullii Philippica. 

Bid him disband his legions, 
Restore the commonwealth to 

liberty, 
Submit his actions to the public 

censure, 
And stand the judgment of a 

Roman senate; 
Bid him do this, and Cato is his 

friend. 

Addison. 

Pacem vult? arma deponat, 
roget, 



54 



CONCANNEN, MATTHEW. 



roget, deprecetur. Neminem 
equiorem reperiet quam me. 

Tullii Philippica. 

But what is life ? 

'Tis not to stalk about and draw 

fresh air 
From time to time ; — — 

'Tis to be free. When liberty is 

gone, 
Life^ grows insipid and has lost 



its relish. 



Addison. 



Non enim in spiritu vita est; 

sed ea nulla est omnino servienti. 

Tullii Philippica. 

Remember, O ! my friends, the 
laws, the rights, 

The gen'rous plan of power de- 
livered down 

From age to age by your re- 
nown'd forefathers : 

O ! never let it perish in your 

hands - Addison. 

Hanc libertatem retinete, 
quaeso, Ouirites, quam vobis, 
tanquam hereditatem, majores 
nostri reliquerunt. 

Tullii Philippica. 

This mistress of the world, this 

seat of empire, 
The nurse of heroes, the delight 



of Gods. 



Addison. 



. Roma domus virtutis, imperii 
et dignitatis ; domicilium glorise. 
lux orbis terrarum. 

Tullius de Oratore, 



Half of the fifth scene of the 
third act is copied from the 
ninth book of Lucan, between 
the three hundredth and the seven 
hundredth line. 

You see by this the exactness 
of Mr. Addison's judgment, who 
wanting sentiments worthy the 
Roman Cato, sought for them in 
Tully and Lucan. 

When he would wish to give 
his subject a terrible, grace, he 
borrows from Shakespear. 

O think what anxious moments 

pass between 
The birth of plots and their last 

fatal periods : 

O ! 'tis a dreadful interval of time 

Filled up with horror all, and big 

with death. AJJ . 

Addison. 

Between the acting of a dreadful 
thing 

And the first motion, all the 
int'rim is 

Like a phantasma or a hideous 
dream ; 

The genius and the mortal instru- 
ments 

Are then in council; and the 
state of man, 

Like to a little kingdom, suffers 
then 

The nature of an insurrection. 
Shakespear" 's Julius Ccesar* 

You may justly complain of 
my so long deferring my thanks 
for all your favors during my stay 



CONCINI. 



55 



in town, hut more particularly 
for introducing me to those 
worthy and ingenious gentlemen 
with whom we passed our last 
evening. 

I am, Sir, with all esteem, 
Your most obliged friend, 
And humble servant, 
W. Wareurton. 

For Mr. M Concannen, 
at Mr. Woodward's, at 
the Half-moon, inFleet- 
street, Ldndon. 

CONCINI, or as he was called 
by his own countrymen, 
Conchini, and by the French, 
Conchine, the son of a clerk in 
a public office at Florence, who, 
entering into the domestic ser- 
vice of Mary de Medicis, previ- 
ously to her marriage with Henry 
the fourth, King of France, ac- 
companied that princess to Paris. 

By the graces of his person, 
and a pleasing address, having 
secured the queen's favor, and 
won the affections of Leonora 
Galligai, a daughter of her ma- 
jesty's nurse, he became her hus- 
band, and by this connection 
added considerably to his influ- 
ence with the royal widow, who 
wasof the same age with Leonora, 
and had been inordinately fond 
of her from their earliest infancy. 

The attachment of Concini, 
on this occasion, must have been 
founded on motives of political 



interest, or intellectual esteem, 
for his wife was grossly deficient 
in personal beauty. 

Their patroness being appoint- 
ed Oueen Regent, during the mi- 
nority of Lewis the thirteenth, 
Concini became in fact, if not 
in form, Mairede Palais* an of- 
fice so hatefully administered in 
the earlier ages of the French 
monarchy, in a word, governor 
of the palace as well as the per- 
son of the young king; he was 
ennobled, the dignity of Marshal 
of France was conferred upon 
him, and he accumulated enor- 
mous wealth, securing for him- 
self, his family, and dependants, 
the highest and most lucrative 
appointments. 

But the vain and ambitious Flo- 
rentine was not satisfied with pos- 
sessing these advantages; he could 
not be content without an osten- 
tatious display of them in every- 
place, and on every occasion ; 
this weakness, which a court fa- 
vorite more than any man ought 
always to avoid, this weakness 
appeared in the splendor of his 
dress, the magnificence of his 
houses, the profusion of his table, 
and the costly liveries of three 
hundred attendants. 

Such conduct was unpardon- 
able in a man, who on other oc- 
casions, discovered no want of 
acuteness and good sense ; it can 
only 



66 



CONCINI. 



only be attributed to his sudden 
elevation, and an unexpected tide 
of wealth and prosperity sudden- 
ly flowing in upon him ; these 
are often found to weaken the 
head, and corrupt the heart. 

Brutus confessed, that after 
frequently wavering he was irre- 
vocably fixed in his purpose of as- 
sassination, by Caesar's receiving 
the senate sitting ; we may judge 
of its effect on a stern republican, 
when an ancient writer and a 
moderate man mentions this cir- 
cumstance in the following strong 
terms; — prcecipuam et inexpi- 
abilem invidiam. 

The death of Concini is said 
to have been determined on, by 
his appearing with his head co- 
vered in the king's presence. 

Thrs imprudent folly, more 
than real crimes, proved his ruin ; 
it excited the king's jealousy, 
and provoked the hatred of the 
people, whose prejudices against 
foreign favorites were soon con- 
verted into malignity, abhorrence, 
and detestation. 

These expressions may appear 
too strong, but they scarcely 
convey an adequate idea of the 
sentiments of rancour and aversi- 
on universally entertained against 
him ; this I believe will be the 
opinion of most readers, when 
informed of certain extraordinary 
proceedings, which I mean pre- 
sently to relate. 



Another circumstance hasten- 
ed his destruction ; the king was 
now approaching to manhood, 
and indignant at the dishonorable 
state of vassalage in which he 
had been long confined, which 
had deprived him of improving 
intercourse, customary amuse- 
ments, and necessary exercise. 
Although little more than sixteen 
years old, the king quickly saw 
that in the present exasperated 
state of the public mind, to dis- 
miss and to punish Concini would 
be acceptable to the majority of 
his subjects ; but he knew at the 
same time, that a numerous and 
powerful party were attached to 
him by blood, by gratitude, and 
interest. 

The sovereign in this instance 
conspired against the minister*, 
private meetings were held, and 
after mature consideration it 
was resolved to remove the pre- 
sumptuous Italian, who, though 
a stranger of obscure birth, thus 
arrogantly presumed to establish 
an uncontrouled ascendency over 
king, nobles, and people. 

Tfais disgraceful business was 
undertaken by one of those tools 
who are ready on most occasions 
to execute the purposes of des- 
potism and vengeance ; the un- 
popular favorite was way-laid as 
he passed to the Louvre, and re- 
ceived the contents of a pistol in 
his heart. 

Ade-. 



CONCINI. 



57 



A detachment of soldiers was 
sent to seize the wife of the mur- 
dered man ; it being the dead 
hour of night, Leonora was found 
in her bed, from which the mis- 
creants dragged her with many 
circumstances of brutality and 
indecorum. After plundering the 
apartments of her papers, her 
money, and jewels, they conveyed 
her to the Bastile; a prosecu- 
tion was commenced against her 
for practising Jewish mysteries 
and other crimes, w hich it is not 
easy to read or to relate without 
a smile or a sigh. 

The prisoner was accused of 
rising before dayrbreak at every 
return of the Jewish festivals, and 
of chaunting select passages from 
the Psalms of David; of sacri- 
ficing a cock, as is a custom 
with Jews on the day of the feast 
of reconciliation ; of consulting 
magicians and astrologers, who 
professed judicial mathematics, 
particularly the beldame Isabel, 
a sorceress by trade, to know, 
whether by virtue of her art any 
information could be procured 
concerning the future events of 
Leonora's life, or any of her fa- 
mily. 

It was further added in aggra- 
vation of the charges, that a 
crucifix, generally kept in Galli- 
gai's room, was always removed 
during the celebration of the un- 
lawful ceremonies, which the of- 

VOL. IV. 



fender and her associates practised; 
and that the parties concerned had 
prepared themselves by previous 
diet ; the witnesses being asked of 
what this consisted, replied " The 
combs of white cocks, carefully 
chosen, and the kidnies of young 
rams/ 3 

It was also proved in evidence 
against her, that a book of strange 
characters was found in the apart- 
ment, by which she was enabled 
to influence the thoughts and in- 
clinations of persons of quality ; 
that philacteries, periapts, amu- 
lets, and ligatures, for suspending 
strange substances to her neck, 
were discovered in her cabinet, 
ancj that, little images of wax 
were concealed in a coffin lined 
with black velvet. 

These and other charges of a 
similar kind seem inconsistent 
with the character given of the 
favorite and confident of Mary 
de Medicis by a grave historian, 
who relates an answer given by 
the unhappy woman to one of 
her judges. 

Being afked by what arts she 
had attained and preserved so 
irresistible an influence over the 
queen, Leonora replied- — ec By 
that power, which strong under- 
standings always exercise over 
weak minds." 

These words, if actually spoken, 
prove that the charges brought 
against Leonora were malicious- 
i lv 



5-8 



CONCINI. 



\y fabricated, or^that it is possi- 
ble and perhaps frequent for the 
same persons to exhibit in their 
conduct and conversation sur- 
prising contrasts of wisdom and 
of folly. 

The offender being found guil- 
ty was beheaded in the early 
part of the seventeenth century, 
and her body burnt to ashes. 

Such was the fate of Concini 
and his wife; yet I have some- 
times doubted whether the crimes 
(their Judaizing and ivitchciaft 
out of the question; whether the 
crimes they committed, were in 
any respect greater than those of 
their predecessors and successors 
in similar situations ; they were 
favorites at court, they grati- 
fied their ambition, oppressed 
their opponents, and accumulated 
wealth, as most favorites in all 
ages have done ; but Concini, as 
I have before observed, wanted 
prudence, moderation, and good 
sense, in the enjoyment of those 
advantages he possessed, and ap- 
pears to have treated with neg- 
lect the woman to whom he was 
indebted for his prosperous ele- 
vation. 

When Leonora was told what 
had happened to her husband 
by the officers who carried her to 
prison, she replied^" Qu'il me- 
ritoittout) qu*iletoit un mechant 
homme, qui n'avoit pas couclie 
avec elle pour trois ans." 



The life and death of Concini 
are familiar to most general read- 
ers, and I have two reasons for 
repeating a well known story: 
first, that I might have an op- 
portunity of proving, as I have 
endeavoured to do, that he was 
not that tyrannical and hateful 
monster which he has been some- 
times described ; and secondly, 
to shew that the treacherous me- 
thod of dispatching an opponent, 
adopted in his case, and which 
scarcely any circumstance or si- 
tuation can palliate, might clearly 
have been avoided by Lewis the 
thirteenth. 

This opinion is confirmed by 
the almost universal hatred with 
which Concini was regarded, and 
is remarkably evinced by certain 
movements I promised to relate, 
and which took place the day 
after he was murdered. 

The body had been privately 
interred by his friends in the 
church of St. Germaine d'Aux- 
erre ; but the instant his death 
was generally known, the po- 
pulace hurried in crowds to the 
spot where he was buried, and 
disinterred the corpse ; after ex- 
ecrations, yellings, and various 
abominable mutilations, they 
dragged it through the streets, 
and finally concluded their savage 
triumph by cutting the object of 
their impotent vengeance into 
a thousand pieces. 

This 



CONCLAVE. 



59 



This scene, almost equal to the 
modern revolutionary horrors of 
Paris, Lyons, and Versailles, was 
attended with other circumstan- 
ces too shocking to relate in 
English. 

" Un autre," . says a French 
writer, speaking of the persons 
who had violated Concini's tomb, 
(i un autre mit sa main dans le 
corps, la retira toute sang/ante, 
et la porta dans sa louche pour 
succer le sang ; an autre eut 
moyen de lui arracher le caeur, et 
V aller cuire sur les char ions, et 
manger publiquemeni avec du 
vinaigre." 

Cardinal Richlieu, who- after- 
wards guided the councils of 
France, and exerted a despotism 
far greater and more unrelenting, 
but conducted with dexterity and 
management, was introduced at 
court, and patronized by Con- 
cini : sharing in the Florentine's 
disgrace, lie retired for a short 
time, but being soort recalled, 
lived and died undisturbed in the 
sunshine of royal favor. 

Yet y at a certain period of his 
administration, when a crowd, I 
forget on what occasion, were 
huzzaing as the carriage of his 
eminence was passing, an enemy 
of the cardinal's observed — rt lis 
ont apparemment ouble, que c'eloit 
un des coquins (Tun Juif excom- 
mune" " They seem to have 
forgot that he was one of the 



varlets of an excommunicated 
Jew." 

CONCLAVE, a part of the 
palace of the Vatican, con- 
sisting of several large anti-cham- 
bers made use of for electing a 
Pope, and divided by nmnerous 
temporary partitions into small 
rooms, called cells \ each cardinal 
being allowed two ; one for his 
own use, furnished with a bed, 
a few chairs and a table ; and 
another for his conclavist, or se- 
cretary. 

The right of chusing a supreme 
head of the Catholic church has 
been exercised for almost time 
immemorial by the college of 
cardinals : their number was li- 
mited to seventy, at the council 
of Basil, by Pope Sixtus the fifth. 

In the middle of the eighteenth 
century they amounted to sixty- 
eight; of whom fifty were Italians, 
six French, four Germans, three 
Spaniards, three Portuguese, one 
a Fleming, and one a Polander ; 
it is a standing law of the sacred 
college, that every pope must be 
a native of Italy. 

To the dignity of cardinal there 
is no revenue attached, but they 
are stiled eminent issimi, and ge- 
nerally hold considerable offices, 
civil as well as ecclesiastical; they 
consider themselves on an equa- 
lity with princes, and as such 
have been treated, 
i 9 Twelve 



66 



CONCLAVE. 



Twelve or fourteen clays are 
generally occupied in performing 
the funeral obsequies of a de- 
ceased pontiff: during this time, 
the cammerlingo, or great cham- 
berlain, who is always a cardi- 
nal, acts as regent, is attended 
by the pope's guards, and issues 
circular letters to the sacred col- 
lege for holding a conclave. 

The body of his holiness, in 
the mean time, lies in state in a 
magnificent bed raised in St. 
Peter's churchy which is illumi- 
nated with torchesand wax lights} 
cardinals in black copes, at in- 
tervals, bestowing absolution, 
and sprinkling incense and holy 
water. 

These and other ceremonies 
being concluded, and the depart- 
ed pope interred, a discourse is 
generally pronounced by some 
eminent churchman, or high 
officer of the palace, de eligendo 
pbntifice, followed by prayer and 
exhortation. A governor of the 
co p. (lave being next chosea and 
sworn to perform the duties of 
his appointment with justice and 
impartiality, the cardinals, after 
celebrating mass in St. Peter's 
church, and hearing an appro- 
priate sermon, retire in proces- 
sion, two and two, into the con- 
clave, which is then shut up by 
the governor, and no one let out 
or admitted^ except in cases of 



dangerous illness, till the new 
sovereign of Rome is elected. 

Refreshments, as occasion may 
require, are brought to the door 
and deposited in boxes, which 
turn round like those usually 
placed in convents, so that what- 
ever they contain may be received 
by the persons in the interior, 
without their seeing or speaking 
to those on the outside ; in this 
manner are the cardinals subsist- 
ed, and provisions conveyed to 
them, till the business for which 
they assembled is concluded. 

Each cardinal orders his con- 
clavist to write down on a slip 
of paper the name of the can- 
didate to whom he gives his 
vote ; these pieces of paper are 
deposited in a chalice, which 
stands on a long table covered 
with green cloth in the chapel 
of the conclave. 

Two cardinals, appointed by 
the governor, successively read 
aloud the contents of these de- 
tached notes ; he who has two- 
thirds of the suffrages is declared 
pope, but till this takes place, 
the scrutiny must be repeated. 
Sometimes parties are so exactly 
balanced, that the election be- 
comes a long and tedious process ; 
and a person is frequently chosen 
indifferent, and sometimes dis- 
agreeable to both sides, merely 
on account of his old age and in- 
firmities, 



CONCLAVE. 



61 



firmities, and because the elec- 
tors cannot agree fa opinion con- 
cerning the original object of 
their choice : an instance of this 
kind may be. seen by referring to 
.the article "Perelli, in this 
volume. 

On some occasions, when the 
votes for a popular candidate 
have been numerous, so as to be 
within three or four of the ne- 
cessary number, they who con- 
sider themselves as possessing the 
majority come out as it were by 
inspiration (from which this me- 
thod takvs its name) but previ- 
ously agreed on, and calling to 
each other with a loud voice, 
mention the name of the cardi- 
nal ihey fix on for pope; when 
the minority, taken as it were 
by surprize, and fearing to incur 
the displeasure of a new pontiff, 
join in the cry, and thus the 
election is concluded. 

The cardinals immediately do 
homage on their knees to the 
holy father, who in his turn be- 
stows on them a short benedic- 
tion, prays for divine assistance 
in the great charge to which he 
has been called, and mentions 
the future name he will bear. A 
cardinal then announces the new 
pope from a lofty balcony to the 
people, who on these occasions 
assemble in crowds, are particu- 
larly licentious and irritable, and 
profess wonderful impatience if 



the cardinals in the conclave are 
tedious in their deliberations. In 
their acclamations, after the name 
of the pontiff and santo padre, 
they frequently add e grosse 
pagnolle (and large loaves.) 

The coronation of the pope 
with the triple crowns generally 
takes place in the course of a 
week : a discharge of cannon 
from the Moles Adriana, now 
called the castle of St. Angelo, 
and an universal jail delivery- 
through the ecclesiastical states, 
with a magnificent cavalcade 
called the possessio, when his 
holiness goes to take possession 
of the church of St. John Laterally 
conclude the election. 

" I was a spectator/' says an 
agreeable and well-informed tra- 
veller, " I was a spectator of the 
possessio which took place when 
Clement the thirteenth, Charles 
Rezzonico, a native of Venice, 
was advanced to the chair of St. 
Peter in July 17.58; it extend- 
ed for full three miles, from the 
palace of the Vatican through 
the whole extent of the city of 
Rome. 

~ <f His holiness was preceded 
and followed by more than two 
thousand horsemen, divided into 
squadrons ; the variety of their 
uniforms, ensigns, and decorati- 
ons, formed an amusing and 
splendid spectacle. A body of 
cuirassiers, completely armed in, 
the 



CONCLAVE. 



the ancient manner, presented no 
bad resemblance of an old Roman 
cohort; the accurate observance 
of costume would not have dis- 
pleased the classic taste of an 
antiquary. 

" These were followed by a 
distinguished body, the roman 
barons, , but their appearance 
after the cuirassiers did not please 
the spectators; they were cloathed 
in black silk, their hair short, 
craped and powdered 3 and al- 
though on horseback, they wore 
black silk shoes, enormous bows, 
and white silk stockings, with a 
chapeau de Iras under each of 
their arms. Every baron was 
preceded by four pages in silk 
cloaks richly embroidered with 
gold ; the hair of these attendants, 
though slightly tied, flowed lux- 
uriantly on their shoulders ; the 
bridle and stirrups of each baron 
and his page had a groom on 
each side walking slowly on and 
superintending ; in addition to 
these, the barons were each of 
them followed by a train of twen- 
ty footmen in liveries heavy with 
gold. 

" The cardinals with numerous 
attendants, theif- flat hats tied 
under their chins, and their long 
cloaks wholly covering the horse 
on which they rode, excited our 
attention as the least attraction 
and most inconvenient dress for a 
person on horseback. The va- 



rious dignitaries of the church 
succeeded their eminences in due 
order, and formed a numerous 
train ; they were followed by the 
pope's household, all in th'eir 
dresses of ceremony ; among 
these, we could not help remark- 
ing the venerable father Orsi, 
master of the sacred palace, who 
although more than eighty years 
old, could not be persuaded from 
attending to shew his respect to 
Clement the thirteenth. 

ie This considerable body hav- 
ing moved forward, I saw the 
holy pontiff mount at the foot of 
-the great stairs of the Vatican on 
a beautiful white mule, led by 
grooms; the moment he moved 
was announced by a thundering 
discharge of cannon from St. 
Angelo's castle, on which an 
enormous banner of the church 
gracefully waved with the wind; 
at this signal, every knee was 
bent to the ground : his holiness 
held in his left hand a slender 
staff, with which he occasionally 
made the mule quicken its pace ; 
with his right, he was continually 
blessing the people, at the same 
time gracefully bending his head 
and body. 

" Two hours were thus oc- 
cupied in passing from the Vatican 
to thechurch of St. John Lateran ; 
as they gradually arrived^, the 
people and a good part of the 
cavalcade dispersed themselves 
over 



COUNTRY SQUIRES. 



63 



over the square which faces that 
church ; the cardinals, prelates, 
and principal ecclesiastics, after 
taking possession, which is done 
in a formal way, by first demand- 
ing entrance, ascended into a 
gallery over the great door. 

" The pope, seated on his 
throne, repeated certain custom- 
ary declarations and forms of 
prayer, the multitude in the mean 
time observing a profound silence, 
so that every word could be dis- 
tinctly heard over the whole 
space, which is large. 

" The tiara was then placed 
on the pontiff's head, followed 
by a universal shout of the people, 
and another discharge of artillery. 
This part of the ceremony was 
so striking, that a rigid Calvinist, 
in company with me, declared 
he felt himself for a moment 
almost a Catholic" 

COUNTRY 'SQUIRES.— 
In a former volume, an in- 
dividual of this description is 
sketched as drinking ale, saluting 
his mistress with a smack, and 
receiving his friend with a thump 
upon his back. 

This portrait, from Young, 
has been thought not exactly ap- 
propriate in the present day, but 
a rough sketch from a moreje- 
cent writer is thought, by correct 
judges, to make nearer approaches 
to modern life. 



Long time, soft son of patrimo- 
nial ease, 

Hippolitus had eat sirloins in 
peace ; 

Had quaff 'd secure, unvex'd by 
child or wife, 

The mild October of a rural life. 

Puffing, per chance, his pipe o'er 
weekly news, 

His bosom kindled with sublimer 
views ; 

The far-fam'd names of Kelly 
and Portmore 

To fam'd Newmarket's course 
the 'Squire bore; 

When lo ! the chance of one un- 
lucky bet 

Strips him of genial cheer, and 
snug retreat : , 

Suck'd by the sharper, to the peer 
a prey, 

" He rolls his eyes that witness 
huge dismay." 

How aukward now he bears dis- 
grace and dirt, 

Nor knows the poor's last refuge, 
to be pert ; 

The shiftless beggar bears of ills 
the worst, 

At once with dullness and with 
hunger curst \ 

And now the scorn of man and 
shame of God 

Is doom'd to dress the horse that 
once he rode. 
" A country gentleman, forty 

years ago," says a modern de- 

claimer, in praise of other times, 

" a country gentleman, at that 
period, 



64 



COUNTRY 'SQUIRES. 



period, was very different from 
the species who now come under 
that description ; he rode over 
his grounds in the mornings, 
conversed with his tenants, and 
was looked up to by his neigh- 
bours as a friendly superior, qua- 
lified by fortune, education, and 
wealth, to afford them advice and 
consolation in the hour of diffi- 
culty, discord, and distress ; he 
resided among them, and with 
his wife and family was an ex- 
ample of nuptial harmony, cor- 
rect conduct, and well regulated 
benevolence. 

" If he occasionally visited 
London, it was only for a few 
weeks ; he was satisfied with a 
furnished lodging, or apartments 
at an hotel, and looked with eager 
wishes to the period of his return. 

" The descendant of such a 
man, at the present day, never 
sees his tenants or his estate; his 
decayed mansion-house is inha- 
bited by a bailiff or the steward, 
his affections and wealth are 
lavished on an extravagant mis- 
tress, and the writings of his estate 
in the hands of a mortgagee. 

f< To recover from the dissipa- 
tion of a London winter, which 
occupies the finest and pleasant- 
est part of the year, he takes his 
chere amie to a watering place, 
a northern tour to the Lakes, or 
a journey into Wales. 

1 •' He is possibly a man of tas te, 



a virtuoso, an admirer, perhaps, 
a copier of picturesque scenery, a 
literary man, or a > antiquary ; is 
perhaps an agreeable friend and a 
pleasant companion ; in a word, 
every thing but what he ought to 
be ; a useful magistrate, a father 
of a family, and a good christian. 
On these points, he is utterly dis- 
qualified for filjmg that place in 
which Pro\idence has placed him: 
adorned with the accomplish- 
ments and manners of a refined 
age, the charities oj domestic life 
are discarded, defiled, or forgotten. 
" With such examples before 
their eyes, can we wonder that 
the rising generation prtrer a life 
of celibacy, i ndolence, and disease, 
to utility, activity, and health ? 
there is a radical decay, not only 
of morals and exertion, but of 
consistency and perception ; our 
great traders affect Superiority in 
magnificence, luxury, and ex- 
pence; our nobility emulate their 
grooms; while all appearance of 
the lucidus or do, the gradual pro- 
gression of intermediate ranks, 
is buried and concealed by costly 
dress, parade, and affectation. To 
these and other causes may be 
attributed a large portion of our 
infelicity ; and although so 

MUCH HAS BEEN SAID OF THE 
FAULTS OF OUR CONSTITUTION, 
AND THE OBLIQUITIES OF THOSE 
WHO GOVERN US ; IT WILL BE 
FOUND THAT OUR MOST SERIOtiS 
EVILS 



CUNNING AS SERPENTS, &c. 



65 



EVILS AND THE BITTEREST OF 
OUR GRIEVANCES ORiGINATE 
FROM OURSELVES." 

CUNNING AS SERPENTS, 
HARMLESS AS DOVES. 

A schoolfellow and early friend 
of the editor of this miscellany, 
religiously educated, and till 
within a few years, of sober 
life and conversation, having, to 
the surprize and regret of his 
associates, suddenly seceded from 
the religious faith of his fore- 
fathers, and entirely absented 
himself from public worship 5 
after frequent mild reprehensions 
and amicable exhortations, pro- 
duced the words which stand 'at 
the head of my present article, 
as the cause of his unwarrantable 
secession ; insisting, that a cha- 
racter formed upon, and acted up 
to this maxim, was an unpleasant 
and dangerous companion. 

His friends, two of them wor- 
thy divines of the church of Eng- 
land, considering it as a matter 
of some importance to reclaim a 
lost sheep, after many long and 
interesting expostulations, found 
their attempts unsuccessful. 

In the course of these con- 
versations, the unbeliever fre- 
quently observed, " that in the 
course of a long and busy life, 
he had occasionally mixed with 
a number of serious and apparent- 
ly devout christians, whose con- 

VOL. IV. 



duct, so far as related to gross 
indulgence and carnal sensuality, 
was exemplary and correct ; bul 
that he never had carried on any 
transaction, commercial, legal, or 
political with them, without be- 
ing over-reached by subtlety, 
craft, or finesse." 

This charge, if brought home 
and proved, a very heavy one, 
he more particularly applied to 
Quakers and Dissenters ; insist- 
ing that the more correct and 
christian-like their doctrines and 
general deportment, the more he 
dreaded having any intercourse 
with them as neighbours, and 
members of society. 

When pressed by incontro- 
vertible arguments on the unfair- 
ness of taking up prejudices 
against religion from the errone- 
ous conduct of a few individuals 
who professed it, when told there 
was nothing in the christian dis- 
pensation which could legalize 
fraudulent hypocrisy, and that 
there was no reason why a good 
man should not by all fair means 
promote the interest of his family, 
he usually seized his hat and 
quitted the room with one of 
those ironical smiles, which those 
who remember the late Mr. Gib- 
bon during such contests, may 
recollect, usually played on the 
extraordinary countenance of the 
sceptic ; a countenance indeed 
so particular, that a coarse and 
k indecorous 



66 



DISPENSATIONS. 



indecorous polemic in the irrita- 
tion of zeal, and losing sight of 
politeness, actually compared it 

to a child's 

This delicate and curious com- 
parison, when repeated to the 
historian, for he never read the 
pamphlet, created a hearty laugh ; 
and he has often been heard- to 
mention this attack on his poor 
double chin, as he used to call it, 
at the same time stroking it be- 
tween his finger and thumb, with 
considerable merriment and 
glee. 

^EATH.— Is it in Mon- 
taigne, that the following 
sentence occurs } 

ff Death is a sort of meat 
whichmust be swallowed without 
chewing." 

If he meant, that the last scene 
of our lives is a subject which 
should not be reflected on, his 
sentiment is unwarrantable in 
theory, and mischievous in prac- 
tice; a man who often thought 
of death, could not live very in- 
correctly. 

DISPENSATIONS.— A cu- 
rious conversation on this 
subject, which would afford good 
materials for a casuist. 

In the year 1712, Queen 
Anne, on the presentation of 
Sir Jacob Astley, granted a cler- 
gyman a dispensation to hold the 



rectory of Foulsham in the 
county of Norfolk together with 
the rectory of Market Deeping 
in Lincolnshire ; the parishes 
in this instance being considera- 
bly beyond the distance from 
each other allowed by an arch- 
bishop's presentation. 

On this occasion, the baronet 
waited on Dr. Tennison, at 
that time archbishop of Canter- 
bury, with the clergyman to 
whom he had presented the 
living, when the following con- 
versation took place. 

Soon after they were an- 
nounced at Lambeth, the pri- 
mate entered : — 

Sir Jacob A. — My lord, I 
wait on your grace in behalf of 

this clergyman, Mr. , to 

whom I have given the presenta- 
tion of Foulsham in Norfolk, 
-to desire your dispensation, that 
he may hold that ljving together ' 
with Market Deeping in Lin- 
colnshire, of which he is now 
rector. 

Dr. Tennison. — Sir, you come 
at a bad time, for my wife is 
ill, and I am myself much indis- 
posed. 

Sir Jacob A. — I am sorry to 
disturb you, my lord, but the oc- 
casion was urgent, and my au- 
thority is the queen's warrant. 

Dr. Tennison. — The queen's 
warrant ? Pray what do you 
mean, sir ? 

Sir 



DISPENSATIONS. 



67 



Sir Jacob A. — Being informed 
that your grace's dispensing 
power was limited to thirty 
miles, we applied for a royal dis- 
pensation. 

Dr. Tennison. — This is a very 
wicked thing, and I wonder you 
would undertake it. 

Sir Jacob A. — The power of 
dispensing without limitation of 
distance was given to the crown 
by the same parliament, that gave 
the archbishop of Canterbury 
power to dispense for thirty miles. 

Dr. Tennison. — 'Tis a very 
wicked thing. 

Sir Jacob A. — Your grace 
frequently makes use of your 
dispensing power, and why may 
not the queen, on similar occa- 
sions, exert a prerogative placed 
in her hands by the constitution? 
But, my lord, will you permit 
the gentleman to speak for him- 
self? He has the queen's warrant 
directed to your grace. 

Dr. Tennison. — Warrant! I 
had rather he would come and 
cudgel me. But I am resolved 
not to agree to it ; let the queen 
do what she pleases ; I will go 
to prison first. 

Sir Jacob A.— If your grace 
would but permit the gentleman 
to speak. 

Dr. Tennison. — Well. 
Clergyman . — I have the queen's 
warrant; would your grace please 
to see it? 



(Archbishop reads the war- 
rant) — I will never suffer it. 
Well, things are come to a fine 
pace ; this is what king William 
would never have done ; he pro- 
mised me he would not, for 'tis 
unreasonable, and not lawful. 

Sir Jacob A. — What is con- 
firmed by act of parliament can- 
not be unlawful ; it is an un- 
doubted prerogative of her ma- 
jesty, which may be exercised at 
her royal pleasure 

Dr. Tennison. — The queen 
may do her pleasure ; I will 
write to my Lord Bohngbroke 
about it, but will never consent, 
let them do what they will ; for 
if I once surfer them to break in 
upon me, I know not where they 
will stop. But hark you, sir, 
(addressing himself to the cler- 
gyman) how can you as one 
man supply these two livings ? 

Clergyman. — One I will serve 
myself, and provide a sufficient 
curate for the other. 

Dr. Tennison. — I tell you it 
is unlawful ; how far distant are 
the places apart ? 

Clergyman. — Between forty 
and fifty miles, my lord. 

Dr. Tennison. — Abominable! 
How dare you ask . so wicked a 
thing ? it was what good king 
William abhorred. I tell you, 
sir, I never will do it. 

Clergyman. — If it be not un- 
reasonable for your grace to 
K 2 grant 



68 



DISPENSATIONS. 



grant dispensations for thirty 
miles, why may not the queen 
do it for greater distances ? since 
it is equally impossible in both 
cases for the same person to 
serve the two livings. 

Dr. Tennison.- — I tell you 

I NEVER DID IT IN ALL MY 

life, and never will. 

Clergyman. — I am informed, 
and on good authority, my lord, 
that King William granted his 
warrant in a similar case, and 
that it was obeyed. 

Dr. Tennison. — Who told you 
that ? I am sure King William 
was too good a man to do so 
wicked a thing. 

Sir Jacob A. — I can assure 
your grace, there was a royal 
dispensation granted in the 
reign of King William. 

Dr. Tennison. — Pray urge me 
no longer, for I will never do it. 
Sir Jacob A. — I take your 
grace's refusal very unkindly, 
it being a thing warranted by 
law, and there is no precedent for 
its having been .refused before. 

Dr. Tennison. — Pluralities 
were designed to reward men of 
extraordinary merit ; here was 
the other day the son of my in- 
timate friend, Dr. B., a man of 
extraordinary talents and fault- 
less character, he came to me to 
get a living; and here you, who 
are so much his junior, have got- 
ten two. This is ve/yfine. 



Clergyman. — Your grace's ar- 
gument will hold equally good 
against all pluralities; but it is 
hard that an exception should be 
made against what is become 
almost a general rule, only in my 
case; I know the gentleman 
your lordship mentions very 
well, we were schoolfellows, but 
at the university I was his 
senior. 

Dr. Tennison. — Well, well $ 
Vis all one; I will not do it. 
Pray let me have your name, 
that of your college, and the de- 
grees you have taken. 

Clergyman. — My name is 

— , my degree is batchelor 

of law, and I resided about seven 
years ago in Jesus college, Cam- 
bridge. 

Dr. Tennison.— I wonder 
people do not understand bet- 
ter than to trouble me when 
my wife is so ill ; but we are 
come to a fine pace. 

Sir Jacob A. — I considered 
the queen's warrant as a suf- 
ficient reason for calling on your 
grace, and I might have men- 
tioned another claim I had on 
your gratitude; this is the living 
I gave your grace's uncle, arch- 
deacon Tennison. 

Dr. Tennison. — I remember 
it, but I cannot allow this gen- 
tleman to have it. 

Sir Jacob A. — Your grace's 
humble servant. 

Dr. 



DISPENSATIONS. 



6» 



Dr. Tennison. — God bless you, 
Sir Jacob ; let us hear no more 
of this wicked thine;. 



This conversation has been 
thought worth preserving, and 
for several reasons; it proves 
that in his own mind, Dr. Ten- 
nison disapproved of pluralities, 
although as archbishop ot Can- 
terbury, he frequently granted 
dispensations for them. 

It may also be observed, that 
if a clergyman's holding two 
livings forty or fifty miles dis- 
tant from each other was a very 
wicked thing, a dispensation for 
holding them thirty miles asun- 
der could not be very good. 

Persons better acquainted with 
the sources of ecclesiastical in- 
formation than the editor of this 
collection can soon determine, 
whether the primate was after- 
wards prevailed on to alter his 
mind. 

The colloquial incorrectness 
of Dr. Tennison's language, 
which I have marked with the 
silent censure of italics, perhaps 
was excusable in a very old man. 

The following cause, which 
after a long hearing at the Court 
of Arches in Doctor's Com- 
mons was decided thirty years 
ago, seems to be a proper addU 
tion to this article, and excited 
at the time considerable interest 
with clergymen in general :— - 



Mr. Blundel, patron of the 
rectory of Costard D'Arcey, 
cited the Reverend Mr. Green, 
rector of that parish, to show 
cause, why that rectory should 
not be declared void, in conse- 
quence of Mr. Green having ac- 
cepted without dispensation two 
perpetual curacies id the county 
of Berks and diocese of Salis- 
bury, both more than thirty- 
miles distant, on the appoint- 
ment of and by licence from the 
dean of Salisbury. 

It was contended on the part 
of Mr. Blundel, that such cu- 
racies were now in fact benefi- 
ces with cure of souls, as they 
had both been augmented with 
perpetual stipends by the act of 
the twenty-ninth of Charles the 
second, which gives to the hold- 
ers of such curacies a right of 
distress on the tythes, or an ac- 
tion for debt ; that by a deter- 
mination of the council of La- 
teran held under pope Inno- 
cent the third in 1215, which 
in such matters is allowed to be 
the law of the realm, the hold- 
ing such benefices makes void 
the holding others with cure of 
souls. 

The arguments produced by 
Dr. Marriott anc( Dr. Calvert, 
who on this occasion exhibited 
extensive reading and most skil- 
fully applied it, the arguments of 
these gentlemen on behalf of 
Mr. 



70 



EAST INDIA VOYAGE. 



Mr. Green were, that perpetual 
curacies, such as those of Hurst 
and Ruscombe in the present 
case, were merely stipendiary of- 
fices with cure of souls by dele- 
gation, in ecclesiastical law a 
most important distinction; that 
the holders of such curacies were 
not parsons, imparsonmees, or, 
incumbents, but serve the cure 
in the name and as representa- 
tives of the impropriator. 

They further observed, that 
when the impropriator of such 
a curacy is an ecclesiastic, the 
cure is in him originally, but if 
a layman, in the ordinary, who 
if the impropriator neglects, may 
appoint a curate; that in certain 
cases the ordinary or licenser 
may remove on cause shewn in 
due course of law, but only for 
such cause as would occasion 
deprivation. 

That the curate in these in- 
stances possesses no freehold in 
the church, chancel, church- 
yard, or glebe, or in any par- 
ticular portion of tythesj that 
he is neither instituted nor in- 
ducted, all of which requisites, or 
the major part of them, are ab- 
solutely requisite to create" a per- 
fect benefice ; it was finally in- 
sisted by Mr. Green's learned 
advocates, that papal councils, 
legative decrees, episcopal and 
provincial constitutions, have no 
force further than as they agree 
with the usage of the realm, the 



king's prerogative, and parlia- 
mentary statutes. 

Sir George Hay, dean of the 
court, decreed against Mr. Blun- 
ders prayer without giving costs 
on either side, declaring at the 
same time, that perpetual curates 
are removable on good cause 
shewn to the proper jurisdiction 
by impropriators ; and that having 
a large benefice, at a very great 
distance, in the present case 
more than ninety miles, might 
be a good and sufficient cause 
for vacating a perpetual curacy ; 
but that in the case before him, 
it lay with the impropriator of 
the curacy, and not the patron 
of the rectory. 

'AST INDIA VOYAGE.— 

I can scarcely enter a 
house either in town or coun- 
try, but I see clouded brows 
and female tears produced by the 
crimes or follies of some of the 
younger branches, who after 
having exhausted paternal pa- 
tience and maternal tenderness, 
tried different situations, and 
emptied their fathers pocket of 
fees, premiums, &c. are as a 
last resort, shipped off to the 
East Indies. 

Of these the majority previ- 
ously injured in health by evil 
habits, anxiety, despair, and a 
long voyage, fall a sacrifice to 
the fiery atmosphere of that 
country, in which a poor fellow 
who 



EAST INDIA VOYAGE. 



71 



who perished there, once told 
me, only the devil or a salaman- 
der could exist. 

In the mean time the expence 
of fating out, in large families 
a serious sum, is thrown away ; 
for I never yet met with any in- 
stance of an account of effects 
being sent to their friends in 
England, and a voung, perhaps, 
excepting as before excepted, 
an amiable man, who might 
have been reclaimed and pre- 
served to comfort his family, 
is lost to his relatives and the 
world, and dispatched as ef- 
fectually as Buonaparte's for- 
mer associates to Cavenne. 

I wish some public-spirited 
member of parliament to put an 
end to this expensive and afflict- 
ing method of deportation, for 
surely it is of more importance 
to restore a diseased limb than 
to cut it off, to amend than to 
destroy. 

For these and other reasons, 
I humbly propose that penitenti- 
ary houses for the middle and 
more elevated classes of society, 
one in each county, be immedi- 
ately erected ; that a power, for I 
will not mince the matter, of 

issuing LETTERS DE CACHET 

be granted to the magistrates, 
previous permission being ob- 
tained from a secretary of state, 
grounded on affidavits from pa- 
rents and guardians. 



In these receptacles for crimi- 
nal infatuation, I would, consi- 
dering them as mad, shut up for 
a certain time, and keep on 
bread, water, and hard labour; 
undutiful children, spendthrifts, 
gamblers, and all young men 
and "even women notoriously 
and flagrantly (deficient in duty, 
practice, and profession. 

Under strict coercion, religi- 
ous discipline, low diet, and so- 
litude, rebellious passions might 
be restrained, bad habits broken, 
and salutary compunction take 
place. 

As reason and religion re- 
turned, they mi^ht be restored 
gradualiy to society ; but in case 
of relapse, should be again shut 
up under circumstances of 
augmented severity. 

This crude plan, loudly called 
for by imperious circumstances, 
I submit to clearer heads and 
abler hands, to digest, organize, 
and put into execution. 

That the power I" wished to 
grant might be abused I do not 
deny, but even its abuse I con- 
' sider as a less evil than the srie- 
vance I wish to remedy, which 
poisons domestic bliss and places 
parents in a cruel situation; they 
are compelled either to destroy 
their offspring, or submit to the 
exhausting inroads of vice, ca- 
price, and profusion. 

EMPE„ 



72 



EMPEDOCLES. 



TT^MPEDOCLES, a citizen 
-&-* of Agrigentum in the 
island of Sicily, who lived nearly 
five hundred years before the 
commencement of the christian 
sera. 

This Pythagorean philosopher 
was eminent in his day as a 
poet and historian, he also stu- 
died medicine, and is said to 
have been deeply skilled in the 
mysterious theology originally 
taught by the Egyptian priests ; 
this last attainment and his 
turning his attention to astro- 
nomy, subjected him to the ac- 
cusation of being a magician, 
of producing many of the phe- 
nomena of nature and the celes- 
tial bodies, which he seemed so 
clearly to understand and so 
readily to explain. Ilium ma- 
gum vulgus nominahaty quasi 
fecit quod fieri sciebat. 

But Empedocles was not a 
man of learning and science 
only ; he attempted to apply 
what he knew to the purposes 
of human life, and endeavoured 
to turn the attention of his fel- 
low citizens to his favourite 
pursuits, and what was a more 
difficult task, to improve their 
morals: for at the time he re- 
turned to his native city, having 
travelled into various and remote 
-countries, he found the Agri- 



gentines devoted to luxury and 
vicious pleasure. 

Possessing the vine and the 
olive, blessed with a fine climate 
and a fruitful soil, they had long 
carried on a considerable com- 
merce, which augmenting their 
population and wealth, brought 
with them their usual accompa- 
niments, excess, sensuality, and 
voluptuousness. 

The city was ornamented with 
temples, public buildings, and 
private houses, remarkable for' 
magnificence and bulky solidity ; 
this circumstance and their pro- 
fuse mode of living gave occa- 
sion to Empedocles to observe, 
that the Agrigentines built as 
if they were to exist for ever, 
but wasted their substance, as if 
they had only a single day to live. 

We may judge how highly 
they valued the luxuries of their 
table, and their ability and 
industry in procuring them, 
when a private citizen, having 
fixed a day for a public entertain- 
ment, was disappointed by con- 
trary winds and tempestuous 
weather of a supply of fish and 
wild-fowl, he ordered a wide 
and deep excavation to be di- 
rectly made, extending more 
than a mile, and twenty feet in 
depth, near the city ; by means 
of a river or the sea, it was 
quickly 



EMPEDOCLES. 



73 



quickly filled and converted into 
a store pond for fish and fowl. 
B^ these means a similar mis- 
fortune was prevented. 

Another wealthy Agrigentine, 
having won a prize in the Olym- 
pic games, is described by 
Diodorus the Sicilian, as making 
a public entry into the city, 
mounted on a lofty car, fol- 
lowed by three hundred others 
in a similar equipage, and every 
one drawn by white horses. 

Most general readers are ac- 
quainted with the story told by 
Athenaeus concerning a gay 
party of young men of this 
city, who continued drinking 
wine, 'till in the madness of in- 
toxication they fancied the house 
they were in was a ship, tossed 
about by a furious tempest ; and 
that the vessel, unless lightened, 
would inevitably sink : for this 
purpose they proceeded to throw 
the tables, chairs, and other 
moveables out of the window, 
'till they had emptied the house 
of its furniture. 

This anecdote is well related 
by a modern traveller and a plea- 
sant writer, who humourously 
asks whether the English phrase 
of turning a house out at win- 
dow might not have derived its 
origin from this incident. 

Another author in the spirit 
of raillery or exaggeration re- 
lates, that on a certain occasion., 

VOL. IV. 



when Agrigentum was besieged 
by the Carthaginians, it was 
given out in public orders, that 
no soldier who kept guard du- 
ring the night, should be allowed 
more than one camel skin, one 
tent bed, one woollen coverlet, 
and two piUows; this, he adds, 
was thought a hard and un- 
reasonable law. 

In a city so wealthy and lux- 
urious, it is difficult to account 
for the voice of philosophy and 
moderation being listened to, or 
even heard ; yet Empedocles is 
said to have been extremely po- 
pular, and ta have .gained a 
wonderful ascendancy over his 
fellow citizens; he reduced their 
intemperate habits within the 
bounds of rational enjoyment, 
and pointed out more legitimate 
channels for the expenditure of 
superfluous wealth ; he taught 
them a lesson which it were to 
be wished all philosophers had 
taught, to afford shelter to age 
and sickness, to protect v the 
fatherless, the "* way-worn stran- 
ger, and the widow ; and they 
confessed, after exhausting the 
resources of art and imagination, 
that this was the greatest of 
pleasures. 

The grateful Agrigentines of- 
fered to make Empedocles their 
king, but having acquired by 
personal worth and strong at- 
tachment a firmer and more 
h desirable 



n 



fcMPEDOCLES. 



desirable sovereignty, he declined 
the offer ; advising them not to 
trust a power, which might be so 
much abused, in the hands of 
any one man. 

His being a Pythagorean is a 
circumstance which renders the 
general good-will he maintained 
with his neighbours still more sur- 
prising, as persons of that sect, 
from the unaccommodating sin- 
gularity of their dress, tenets, 
and manners, were generally dis- 
liked, had been frequently per- 
secuted, and sometimes put to 
death. 

The inhabitants of Agrigen- 
tum, when they recollected 
the eminent services, he had 
rendered them, probably over- 
looked this defect in the cha- 
racter of their favourite. An in- 
stance is recorded in which a 
peculiar indulgence was granted 
him. 

Having gained an Olympic 
prize, it was the custom for every 
victorious candidate to sacrifice 
an ox to the gods, but a law 
of Pythagoras expressly forbad 
the killing any animal, he was 
therefore permitted to offer an 
artificial bullock made of pre- 
cious gums and other fragrant 
substances. 

Empedocles was well ac- 
quainted with the theory and 
practice of music, and is said, on 
good authority, to have applied 



his knowledge of the doctrine of 
harmony and sounds to the cure 
of diseases, particularly of in- 
sanityj and succeeded in many 
desperate cases. 

On another occasion, being 
alarmed as he passed the street 
by loud expressions of sorrow, 
which seemed to proceed from a 
house near which many persons 
were assembled apparently over- 
whelmed with sorrow, he de- 
manded the cause, and was 
told, that an excellent woman, 
the mother of a large family, and 
doated on by her distracted hus- 
band, had been just quitted as 
dead by her physician. 

Prompted by curiosity, or a 
wish to know if the matron was 
actually dead, he entered the 
house, but could neither feel any 
pulse nor observe any respira- 
tion ; in his endeavours to find 
if there was any pulsation of the 
vital organ remaining, for at 
that time physicians felt the 
pulse of their patients by apply- 
ing the back of their hands on 
the left side near the seat of the 
heart, he perceived a warmth. 

Considering this circumstance 
as a sufficient reason for doing 
something, he employed power- 
ful means, the almost extin- 
guished spark of life brightening 
up expanded into a flame, gen- 
tleness and perseverance gave 
new powers to skill, and the 
happy 



EMPEDOCLES. 



75 



happy physician at length re^ 
stored the expiring female to the 
arms of her family. This is one 
of the few instances, in which a 
physician receives something 
more than his fee. 

On another occasion, the in- 
habitants of a district in the 
neighbourhood of Agrigentum 
complained, that in the spring 
season for many years their 
olives had been blighted, and 
their crops on the ground mil- 
dewed and blasted : as he walked 
over their lands, Empedocles ob- 
served the geographical position 
of the place, and soon disco- 
vered, that it was particularly 
exposed to the north-east wind 
by an opening between two 
lofty mountains; he also re- 
marked a more than common 
number of wild asses sufficient 
to eat up all the produce, dis- 
figuring the landscape by their 
ragged ugly forms, and distracts 
ing every one's ears by their 
odious braying. 

He directly prdered a large 
slaughter of these animals, their 
skins to be dried, and on lofty 
poles driven firmly into the 
ground to be sewn together and 
extended across the valley be- 
tween the hills; by these means 
the crops of the fields were shel- 
tered, and the evils they con> 
plained of ceased. 



These, and other important 
benefits produced by the know- 
ledge and sagacity of the philo- 
sopher, were cried out against 
by certain deep thinkers, as 
magic arts produced by unlaw- 
ful intercourse and infernal aid ; 
his friends and fellow citizens, 
equally extravagant in the oppo*- 
site extreme of praise and exag- 
geration, magnified into the acts 
of a god what was evidently 
the effect of superior capacity and 
good sense, and insisted on pay- 
ing him divine honors. 

It is at this period of the life 
of Empedocles, that critics and 
historians have not agreed ; the 
general conclusion of the history 
is, that his head was turned by 
their flattery, that he yielded to 
the delusion, confessed himself 
a deity, and declared, that he 
should quickly be taken up into 
Heaven, and quaff nectar with 
the Gods. 

In order to make his adorers 
believe that this ascension actu- 
ally took place, and to prevent 
any discovery of his remains, 
the commonly received story 
proceeds to relate, that he threw 
himself into the flaming crater 
of Mount iEtna, where his body 
was consumed to ashes, but that 
the force of the fire threw out 
his iron sandals, which were af- 
terwards found, accounted for 
j, 3 his 



78 



ENGLISH WOMEN. 



his absence, and led to a dis- 
covery of the manner in which 
he had voluntarily died. 

The contrary opinion, sup- 
ported bv internal evidence, and 
a reference to the general cha- 
racter and life of Empedocles, 
and the usual manner in which 
men treat their benefactors, — the 
contrary opinion is, that Empe- 
docles, finding his popularity 
declining, and his efforts to im- 
prove the citizens of Agrigentum 
opposed by selfishness and vice, 
observing, that if he conferred 
favors on a hundred persons he 
created ninety-nine monsters of 
ingratitude,, wearied with un- 
requited labour, and mortified 
by malignant misrepresentation, 
he retired with silent indigna- 
tion to a distant country, and 
closed his days among strangers, 
who having never experienced 
his kindness did not attempt to 
interrupt the tranquillity of his 
last moments. * 

Of the writings of Empedo- 
cles little that is certainly his re- 
mains ; he was author of a long 
poem, consisting of many thou- 
sand verses, on Nature; some- 
what similar to the Philosophi- 
cal Chimeras of Lucretius, who 
praises, and probably had read 
the book ; he also wrote on Me- 
dicine in verse and on the 
Persian War j of the three pro- 
ductions here mentioned only 



fragments remain : a Treatise on 
Astronomy, which passes un- 
der his name, is of doubtful 
origin. He was a cotemporary 
with Sophocles and Zeno. 

ENGLISH WOMEN — 
The following panegyric in 
verse was written on them 
nearly four-score years ago ; a 
satirical veteran, who occasion- 
ally honors this collection with 
a perusal, insists, that it is no 
longer applicable. 

In search of true beauty I was 

led a long dance, 
And travellM through Italy, 

Germany, France ; 
On the banks of the Seine I was 

pleas'd to survey 
A crowd of fair charmers all 

merry and gay, 
But their mirth it. was pertness, 

their joy in extremes, 
No delicate softness like the 

nymphs of the Thames. 

The Alps I next crossed to see if 

perchance, 
The Italians possess'd what I 

found not in France ; 
Neither Venice, nor Rome, nor 

Florence could boast 
A girl to compare with our 

Somerset toast ; 
Who modest and mild, wins 

our hearts with a sigh, 
And pleases the most by not 

seeming to try. 

But 



ENTHUSIASTIC ATTACHMENTS. 



77 



But fair Italy's dames, to give 

them their due, 
Instead of retreating, they seem 

to pursue. 
Like a rose that's full blown, they 

expand all their charms, 
They dance, sing, and leer, and 

fly into your arms. 
The true English rose-bud on 

Britain's fam'd shore, 
Scarce disclosing its beauties, in- 
flames us the more. 
Returning through Germany, I 

was struck with surprise, 
What the belles want in beauty 

they make up in size : 
If charms cou'd bemeasur'd like 

Heidelberg wine, 
For a quart on the Thames you've 

a tun on the Rhine. 
Convinc'd of my error, no further 

I'll roam, 
Whilst we've modesty, beauty, 

and good sense at home. 

■ NTHUSIASTIC AT- 
TACH lMENTS. 

We have all our favourite sub- 
jects and favorite characters, on 
which we love to dwell, and it is 
with difficulty we can be persuad- 
ed to allow they have any faults ; 
we may say of them as the lover 
somewhere observes to his mis- 
tress: — ' c You are all faultless, 
or quite blind am I." 

Passing, not many years since, 
an edifice which exhibited over 



the door of it, the following in- 
scription : — 

DEO OPTIMO MAXIMO 

SANCTO ET N1COLAO 

SACRUM. 

S( Aye," said a person who ac- 
companied me, and a frequenter 
of such places, " he was some- 
thing like a saint." iC Who?" 
I demanded. " JVhy, St. Ni- 
cholas, to he sure", he was none 
of your trumpery sort like Jana- 
rus, whose blood they puts into 
a bottle; or what d'ye call 'um, 
who carries his head under his 
arm* 

" Our priest read his life cut 
of a book he brought, which tells 
us that he was a saint even in 
swadling clothes, and was ob- 
served never to suck on Wednes- 
days or Fridays." 

This trait in biography, men- 
tioned by a modern writer as an 
instance of ridiculous absurdity, 
was considered as gospel by the 
person I was conversing with, a 
countryman, whom I had hired 
as a guide to conduct me across 
an intricate country. , 

What the author laughed at 
my worthy associate verily and 
indeed believed ; and if I had pre- 
sumed to differ from him in opi-. 
nion, I am convinced, ivouldhave 
left the heretic in the lurch, 

I ventured to say," How could 

an infant know any thing of 

feast* 



78 



ENTHUSIASTIC ATTACHMENTS. 



feasts or fasts, or even distinguish 
one day of the week from ano- 
ther ?" " Why a meeracle to be 
sure, and no greater wonderment 
to he made at it, than/' &c. &c. 

Here the rustic entered on 
some well-put arguments on the 
Eucharist, and other subjects; 
which, when I recollected his 
uncouth dialect, the state of his 
cloathing, and his position in life, 
very much surprised me. 

Though not exactly agreeing 
in our tenets, I was pleased with 
his frankness, and when we part- 
ed, gave him a double fee, and 
an exhortation to be honest and 
sober. 

ic I hope, Measter, I shall, or 
I should expect that St. Nicholas 
would dra back my curtain at 
night." 

Some months after writing 
this article, accident threw me 
into company with the priest 
who superintends the devotions 
of the persons who assemble 
where I read the inscription ; I 
found him a learned, affable, 
well-informed, and pious man, 
who takes considerable pains to 
perform his parochial duties con- 
scientiously : this accounts for 
the moral rectitude, as well as 
the implicit confidence of his 
parishioner. 

Thus a biographic sketch of a 
saint, which confirmed a religious 



Iatitudinarian in his scepticism, 
strengthened the faith, and im- 
proved the moral conduct of 
an humble believer; what one 
thought an incontestible beauty, 
the other viewed as a preposterous 
deformity. 

" What do you think of that 
lady in the side box, who is rest- 
ing her arm against the pillar }" 
said a doating lover, wishing to 
sound his friend concerning the 
object of his affections, to whom 
he had not yet introduced him. 

(i Do you mean the woman 
with a bandeau round her car- 
ratty hair,, and who squints so 
abominably ?" was the reply. 

The fond admirer was so dis- 
gusted, that he instantly stifled 
the subject, and endeavoured to 
conceal his chagrin; the com- 
panions soon separated, and a 
friendship of long standing be- 
came cold as charity. 

The red hair, was a beautiful 
auburn in the lover's imagina- 
tion, and the squint (abominable 
wretch for giving it such a name) 
was one of those enchanting 
looks which had robbed him of 
his heart. 

He who pronounced the au- 
burn tresses carrots, and the fas- 
cinating leer a squint, neither 
conscious of, nor meaning to 
give offence, was surprised at the 
future coldness of his friend, and 
wonders 



EPITAPHS. 



79 



wonders at his unfeeling capaci- 
ousness. 

The other gentleman, now 
married to his nymph of the au- 
burn locks and love-darting eyes, 
calls his old associate arudeman, 
and pities his want of taste. 

EPILOGUE, part of one, to 
a modern comedy, and 
spoken by a lady : 

Man's social happiness still rests 

on us 
Through all life's drama: whether 

damn'd or not, 
Love gilds the scene, and woman 

guides the plot : 
The cit, well skill'd to shun do- 
mestic strife, 
Will sup abroad, hut firSt he'll 

ask his wife : 
John Trot, his friend, for once 

will do the same, 
But then he'll just step home to 

tell his dame. 
The surly 'squire, resolv'd his wife 

to rule, 
Thinking each woman half the 

day a fool ; 
At night, how chang'd ! the 

soften'd tyrant says, 
ie Ah Kate, you women have 

such winning ways." 
The statesman too, with such a 

sapient air, 
Is often govern'd by a favWite 

fair, 



And as the courtiers watch his 

lady's face, 
She smiles preferment, or she 

frowns disgrace. 
If we descend to scenes of humble 

life, 
The poor man's only treasure is 

his wife ; 
The smile of love still lightens all 

his woes, 
And gives a zest to every joy he 

knows. 
In distant climes, and tost by 

wave and wind, 
The sailor thinks of her he left 

behind ; 
Through the long watch, however 

far remov'd, 
He hums the ballad which his 

Susan lov'd. 

/ 

EPITAPHS.— The following 
satirical one on Joshua 
Barnes, the translator of Eu- 
ripides, and author of a bulky 
Life of Edward the third, 
king of England. It ought 
to be premised, that Barnes 
was a helluo librorum, an uni- 
versal and voracious reader of 
every thing, which he accurately 
retained; but he wanted the taste 
and discretion of a judicious se- 
lector. 

HIC JACET 

JOSHUA BARNES 

FELICIS MEMORISE, JUDICIUM 

EXPECTANS. 

Joshua, 



80 



EVANS, JOHN, 



Joshua in some way offended 
Dr. BentU-y, who had at first 
patronized him; the doctor, like 
a Scotch thistle, was not to be 
made angry without making his 
assailant smart for it, and laid 
his critical staff with a heavy 
hand on the offender's shoulders. 
Barnes soothed his literary dis- 
appointments with the comfort- 
able consolation of a wealthy wife. 

The following epitaph was 
written on a married pair v ho 
lived in strife, but were now ob- 
served to lie quiet enmigh : — 

VIATOR, 
NIL ADMIRERIS *. 

VIR ET UXOR 

H1C CONJACENT 

ET NON LITIGANT. 

EUDOXIA F^DEROW- 
NA, empress of Russia, 
and the first wife of Peter the 
Great. 

For a short account of the 
splendid commencement, but 
melancholy conclusion of her 
life, see the article unqualified 
praise, in this volume. 

EVANS, JOHN, a native of 
the principality of Wales, 
and curate of Enfield in Stafford- 
shire ; an account of whose life 
has been given by a voluminous 
and learned writer, in the grave 
language of truth, and with all 
the minute circumstantiality of 



matter of fact ; ret notwithstand- 
ing this internal evidence, it is 
not possible the author in ques- 
tion could believe all that he 
relates. 

During the first year of his 
residence at Enfield, Evans per- 
formed his duties with credit and 
satisfaction, but not being able 
or willing to suppress his love of 
ale, which he had at first resisted, 
it gradually returned, and led the 
way to drunkenness and other 
vices; he became debauched in 
manners., noisy and quarrelsome 
in conversation, frequently fight- 
ing with the low companions 
which an ale-house generally in- 
troduces; he was often seen in 
the pulpit marked with bruises, 
and disfigured by black eyes; 
these could not escape the notice 
of his congregation, although his 
unfortunate wife, by means of 
chalk, flour, and other con- 
trivances, endeavoured to con- 
ceal such disgraceful badges ; yet 
the efforts of her industry were, 
on most occasions, partially ef- 
faced during the summer months, 
by heat and perspiration, which 
rendered the drunkard's counte- 
nance still more ghastly, a dis- 
gusting and ridiculous appear- 
ance dishonorable to any one 
pretending to be a gentleman, 
but highly scandalous and unbe- 
coming in a clergyman perform- 
ing his duty in the house of God. 
A* 



EVANS, JOHN. 



81 



As preaching is generally use- 
less, and seldom attended to 
without a corresponding practice, 
Evans was gradually hated or 
despised, and exciting jealousy 
or indignation in the married part 
of his hearers by the lascivious 
looks and impudent familiarity 
with which he addressed their 
wives, he found it necessary to 
decamp privately in the night. 

His departure was hastened by 
the parish officers, who were 
clamorous in their demands that 
he would contribute to the sup- 
port of several illegitimate chil- 
dren; for he was inordinately 
given to women, and with fe- 
males of a certain description 
was said to be a wonderful fa- 
vorite. 

This perhaps may be ranked 
among the numerous instances 
of what I have called, in another 
part of this work, unaccountable 
attachment, as the form and face 
of this favored lover were re- 
markably unsymmetrical and dis- 
pleasing ; his complexion is de- 
scribed as saturnine, his stature 
short, his proportions clumsy; 
he was beetle-browed, thick- 
lipped, and splay-footed. 

Thus driven from home, and 
banished from creditable society 
by folly and vice, he was /or 
some time an unsettled wanderer; 
and his family, but for the be- 
nevolence of former neighbours, 

VOL. IV, 



would have wanted the means of 
subsistence. 

He endeavoured to support 
himself by teaching " English, 
Latin, Greek and Hebrew, in 
half the time generally wasted in 
acquiring them ; also arithmetic, 
mathematics, and the following 
hands, — the running secretary, 
the set secretary, the Roman, 
Italian, and court hands/' But 
the same unpropitious tendencies, 
whichhad ruined him as a curate, 
arrested his progress as a school- 
master; relying on other arts, 
and stimulated by an empty 
purse, he repaired with his fa- 
mily to London. 

It is at this period of his life, 
that the miraculous singularity 
of Evans's history commences, 
which his biographer relates with 
tbe unaffected coolness of an 
every day's occurrence. 

" He now applied the powers 
of his mind to astrology, and 
gave judgment upon things lost, 
that chief est shame of this ab- 
struse science; yet, to give him 
his right, he had a piercing judg- 
ment, and was a most under- 
standing man on a figure &f 
theft ; he also prepared antimo- 
nial cups, and drew a tolerable 
profit from selling them. In 
1613 he published almanacks 
and prognostications; but the 
principal means of his subsist- 
ence was. astrology, in which he 
M had 



EVANS, JOHN. 



had done some acts seemingly 
above and beyond that wonder- 
ful art. 

" He was well versed in the 
nature of spirits, but more par- 
ticularly in the circular way of 
invoking them" Whether thev 
came when Evans invoked must 
be determined by the degree of 
faith we place in the following 
story : — 

(( There was a young woman 
in Staffordshire, who, as is ge- 
nerally the case in such bargains, 
had married an old man for the 
sake of his money; surviving 
her husband, she applied to a 
friend in whose hands the title 
deeds of his estate, now her pro- 
perty, had been deposited ; but 
this unfaithful and fraudulent 
confident could not be persuaded 
to give them up. 

(c Recollecting her former 
neighbour, the curate of Enfield, 
and understanding by report his 
adroitness in difficult matters, 
she repaired with all speed to 
London, and applied to Evans 
i^or advice : after due consider- 
ation he engaged to recover the 
parchments, if she would give 
hiai forty pounds. 

* c So strong w r as her reliance, 
>ot so complete the delusion, that 
our young widow immediately 
counted out forty pieces of gold 
on the table, telling the artist 
that she should not grudge that, ' 



and much more, if the deeds in 
'question could be restored; he. 
then directed her to withdraw, 
first informing him, where she 
was to be found in case he sent 
for her. . 

" Evans then commenced his 
preparations ; he abstained for 
fourteen days from women, wine, 
animal food, and all disorderly 
passions; he read daily, at select 
hours and cloathed in his sur- 
plice, passages from the scrip- 
tures and portions of the church 
Liturgy. 

" At length, when the night, 
the hour, and themoment arrived, 
he powerfully, audibly, and with 
customary gesture, invoked the 
angel Salmon, who forthwith 
appearing demanded of the 
astrologer e what he would have }' 
which when Evans had describ- 
ed, he disappeared, and in a little 
time returning with the wished - 
for deed, laid it gently upon 
a table on which a white cloth 
had been previously spread; then, 
having performed his office, in- 
stantly vanished. 

{( On another occasion, when 
the dwelling-house of Evans was 
in the Minories, he was applied 
to by Sir Kenelm Digby, and ano- 
ther honorable person, to shew 
them a spirit, which he promised 
them to do ; and proceeding out of 
hand to the circular way of in- 
vocation, Evans was suddenly, 
and 



EVANS, JOHN. 



83 



and in spite of himself, lifted out 
of the room, and carried into 
the common field abutting 
against Battersea causeway, on 
the banks of the Thames, and 
near Chelsea reach. 

" A countryman passing the 
road, which is a foot- way from 
Lambeth to Battersea, espied a 
man in black cloaths apparently 
sleeping, and awakened him ; 
Evans not sleeping, but swooning 
and astounded, now understood 
his condition, and for the tra- 
veller's satisfaction said he had 
been late over-night at Batter- 
sea, somewhat overtaken with 
liquor, and in that condition had 
been left by his friends, them- 
selves no what the better. 

" The gentlemen somewhat 
amazed, but without injury, 
quitted Evans's house; repairing 
thither the next morning to ask 
what was become of thus super- 
natural operator, they weie sur- 
prised when they reached the 
door, to see a messenger just ar- 
rived, desiring Mrs. Evans to 
fetch her husband, %v ho was fa- 
tigued and dispirited with the 
spiritual wrestling he had under- 
gone, a more than mortal strife ; 
the good woman going to a cot- 
tage near where h'er husband was 
found, conveyed him safely 
home. 

" Being asked if he could ac- 
count for this unusual violence 



and deportation, Evans made 
answer, that at the time of in- 
vocation, he was not wholly free 
from sensual impurity, and that 
he had moreover neglected sif- 
fumigation, at which the spirits 
were vexed." 

Such is the tale, related more 
at large, and more circumstanti- 
ally, with respect to names and 
places, by two authors, who seem 
to believe the story they tell ; yet 
in the first instance I think it 
very possible, that in recovering 
the writings, if the man who de- 
tained them lelieved in super- 
natural arts, and in the circular 
method of invoking spirits, I 
think it very possible for Evans 
to have got them from him by 
threats of legal process, or of 
exercising on him magic inean- 
tations ; being a man famous 
for quoting the Classics, he might 
have addressed him in the words 
of Virgil :-r- 

Flectere si nequeo super os, Ache- 
ronta movebo. 

The appearance of the angel 
Salmon, the napkin on the ta- 
ble, &c. might be managed with 
a moderate share of dexterity. 

As to the aerial journey to 
Battersea field, a trap-door pro- 
perly constructed might afford 
the conjurer apt means of disap- 
pearance, and the flame, smoke, 
and stench of two-penny-worth 
of powdered rosin, would suf- 
m 2 ficiently 



/ 



64 



FERRAR, NICHOLAS. 



ficiently blind and affright a cre- 
dulous man like Sir Kenelm 
Digby, and prevent any minute 
and critical observation of the 
manoeuvres going on. 

The circumstance of Evans 
being found in the condition de- 
scribed is not very difficult to 
account for, when we consider 
his character, and recollect that 
a drunken man falling into a 
.ditch, or sleeping under a hedge, 
is no very uncommon occur- 
rence. 

If in modern times the many 
gentle pairs, who not far from 
the place where Evans took a 
nap, drink oblivion to the toils 
of their counters, and the shrill 
voice of domestic strife, if they 
could satisfy their wives or their 
masters, and persuade them that 
they were carried thither against 
their wills by evil spirits, they 
might consider themselves as 
very fortunate. 

The subject of our present ar- 
ticle is said, when half drunk, 
to have exhibited many sallies 
of droll humour and laughable 
vivacity ; but like the liquor he 
was so fond of, it did not always 
flow clear, nor was it on every 
occasion of the most delicate 
flavor; some of his effusions have 
survived worthier productions, 
and a few months only have 
passed, since a gross but witty 
impromptu, originally uttered bv 



Evans, was facetiously spoken, 
and with extravagant applause, 
by a three-bottle man; two peo- 
ple might think alike, but I had 
seen the book in which it is re- 
corded on the wit's table, a few- 
days before, with leaves folded 
down, when good things occurred. 
Quid domini facient, audent 
cum talia pures? 

FERRAR, NICHOLAS, the 
son of a London mer- 
chant, at the conclusion of the 
sixteenth century, who inherit- 
ing from his mother a delicate 
constitution, but a vigorous 
mind, eagerly devoted his early 
life to literary application. 

Religious books being first 
put into his hand made an im- 
pression on the boy's mind, 
which never was removed, and 
when only six years old, he was, 
able to repeat hy heart a con- 
siderable portion of the Old and 
New Testament, the English 
Chronicle, and Fox's Book of 
Martyrs. 

At the age of eight, he was 
placed under the tuition of a 
worthy clergyman, near New- 
bury, in Berkshire, whose dis- 
cipline was so successful, or the 
aptness of his scholar so great, 
that being considered as qualified 
for an university, he was sent 
when thirteen years old to Clare 
Hall in Cambridge, where Dr. 
Linselh 



FERRAR, NICHOLAS. 



85 



Linsell, afterwards Bishop of 
Peterborough, became his tutor. 

To use the words of Mr. 
Ferrar's right reverend biogra- 
pher, for he was not only in- 
structed, but his life has been 
written by a bishop,- — to use the 
prelate's words,— it was soon ob-* 
served, that Ferrar's candle was 
the first lighted and the last ex- 
tinguished in that college. 

This sedentary drudgery was 
not likely to improve a tender 
habit, and being under the ne- 
cessity of applying for medical ad- 
vice, his physician recommended 
travelling, in the hope of calling 
ofFforatime his unceasing ap- 
plication to books. 

The princess Elizabeth, one 
of the daughters of King James 
the first, who had marred the 
count Palatine, being at the 
moment on her way to Ger- 
many, Mr. Ferrar was permitted 
to join the suite of her highness, 
and accompanied them part of 
the way; they landed in Hol- 
land, and after accompanying 
his countrymen to the borders 
of Germany, as he proposed 
going considerably to the north 
of the Palatinate, he took his 
leave 5 visiting Munster, Ha- 
nover, and Cassel, leaving no 
place till all that was to be seen 
or heard had been explored; at 
Leipsic, finding his health better, 



he remained several months, 
again applied to his books, and 
to qualify himself for making 
further progress as well as pro- 
fit in travelling, improved him- 
self in the modern languages. 

He now resolved to see Italy, 
not indeed by the direct road, 
but visiting such places as were 
likely to gratify his curiosity, or 
afford opportunities for improv- 
ing his mind, and adding to his 
knowledge. 

He continued a few days at 
Dresden, and made a considerable 
deviation for the purpose of visit- 
ing Prague, Ratisbon, Augs- 
bourg, Munich, Saltzbourg, In- 
spruck, and Trent. 

At that period Europe was 
under considerable dread of that 
awful scourge, the plague, and 
Mr. Ferrar was obliged near 
the Italian frontier to undergo a 
precautionary secession, some- 
thing similar to quarantine. 

It was at the time, that sea- 
son of the year when the Chris- 
tian church enjoins for a certain 
period fasting and prayer, as a 
salutary and impressive memo- 
rial of the patience, trials, and 
forbearance of Jesus Christ. 

Our pious traveller passed the 
greater part of the forty days du- 
ring Lent in abstinence and de- 
vout meditation, onamountain al- 
most covered with rosemary and 
wild 



86 



FERRAR, NICHOLAS. 



wild thyme, descending regu- 
larly every evening to make a 
moderate meal on fish. 

This temporary solitude first 
gave Mr. Ferrar a relish for men- 
tal abstraction, and contemplative 
devotion, imparted peculiar tinc- 
ture to his faith, his conduct. 
and his manners, and ultimately 
decided the singular manner in 
which he passed the after part of 
his life. 

These impressions were also 
further confirmed, by his nar- 
.rowly escaping a sudden and 
violent death ; this mercy he 
never forgot, but indelibly fixed 
it on his mind by an anniversary 
practice of fasting, prayer, and 
thanksgiving. 

Flaving sufficiently guarded 
against the clangers of pestilen- 
tial infection to himself, or com- 
municating it to others, a pre- 
caution in many respects trou- 
blesome, tedious, and vexatious, 
but against which no man ought 
to object, and whose evasion 
should be punished with death, 
as it is better that one man should 
die, than thousands perish', Mr. 
Ferrar passed on to the once 
renowned, but decayed univer- 
sity of Padua. 

He here attended a course of 
medical lectures, which quali- 
fied him to be useful afterwards 
to his country neighbours. 

After a stay of four months, 



he quitted Padua precipitately, 
terrified by real or imaginary 
dangers from certain Jesuits, 
who, with the pope, the devil, 
and the pretender, were once the 
bugbears, the raw-head and 
bloody-bones of England, and 
probably not without reason. 

He repaired without delay to 
Rome, which then contained 
such stores of amusement and . 
information for the antiquary 
and man of taste; after seeing 
whatever was worthy of notice 
in the ecclesiastical metropolis, 
or its environs, he made a retro- 
grade movement to the mercan- 
tile sea-port of Leghorn, and in 
a few days embarking in a fe- 
lucca, crossed that part of the 
Mediterranean which is called 
the sea of Genoa, and landed at 
Marseilles. 

After remaining in that city 
three weeks, he re-embarked in 
an English vessel for the Spanish 
port of Saint Sebastian ; being 
disappointed in his expectation 
of a pecuniary remittance at' this 
place, he walked to Madrid, 
wher^e he heard that his mother, 
now a widow, was involved in 
trouble. 

In the eagerness of filial af- 
fection, he took the earliest op- 
portunity of sailing for England, 
and after a five vears absence 
from his native country landed 
at Dover with a constitution 
considerably 



FERRAR, NICHOLAS. 



fi7 



considerably amended, and large 
additions of information, learn- 
ing, and science. 

He could not restrain the 
pious gratitude, and patriotic 
rapture he felt; the instant he 
jumped on shore, he fell on his 
knees upon the beach, returned 
thanks to the Almighty for that 
protecting providence which had 
sheltered him from perils by 
land and perils by sea^ and then 
kissed his native soil. 

By the established goodness 
of his character, and a large share 
of natural sagacity, he was en- 
abled to extricate his family 
from their difficulties, which 
had been produced or aug- 
mented by a litigious attorney. 

In 1624, Mr. Ferrar was 
chosen a member of the House 
of Commons, and in this ca- 
pacity took an active part against 
the treasurer, Sir Lionel Cran- 
field, who, from the humble 
station of a Custom-house of- 
ficer, had by his fiscal projects 
so ingratiated himself with King 
James, that he gave him a lord 
treasurer's staff, and created him 
a. peer of the realm. Sir Lionel 
had been accused by his ene- 
mies, I know not how justly, of 
corruptly conniving at certain 
injurious monopolies. 

But Mr. Ferrar, in parliament 
or on his travels, in his closet 
or the world, never lost sight of 



what appears to have been at a 
very early period the favourite 
wish and purpose of his. heart, 
religious retirement, and the de- 
voting himself wholly to -God ; 
forgetting, as too many of his 
predecessors in the same path 
have done, that those exertions 
should seem to be most pleasing 
to our Almighty Creator, which 
imitate his attributes, and are 
productive of social utility. 

In this plan of retirement, he 
was powerfully aided by his mo- 
ther, who felt and indulged si- 
milar propensities, and being 
possessed of the house and 
manor of Little Gedding, in 
Huntingdonshire, had apt means 
in her hands of putting into 
execution this favourite purpose. 

As the first step, Mr. Ferrar 
procured himself to be ordained 
by Dr. Laud ; then taking leave 
of his London friends, and finally 
adjusting every affair likely to 
require his presence in the me- 
tropolis, he prepared to depart, 
with his mother, his elder 
brother, his sister, her husband, 
a Mr. Colet, and their fifteen 
children, of whom six sons and 
three daughters were married. 

This religious colony, con- 
sisting with the servants of up- 
wards of forty persons, quitted 
London, and by easy journies 
repaired to Little Gedding. 

The house,' which had for 
many 



68 



FERRAR, NICHOLAS. 



many years been in the occupa- 
tion of a farmer, they found in a 
ruinous and neglected state, the 
garden a wilderness, pigs had 
been kept in a pleasure house, 
and the ' church was converted 
to a barn. 

Provoked at what he consi- 
dered as profane misapplication, 
Mr. Ferrar would not sleep till 
he saw the house of God clean- 
sed of its contents, and actually 
performed divine service in it by 
candle light, before the family 
retired to rest : it was afterwards 
completely repaired within and 
without. 

To make a large roomy man- 
sion, which had been so long left 
to decay, a fit habitation for a very 
large, and respectable family, 
was a work of time, labour, and 
expence; even to subsist them, 
required some skill, effort, and 
contrivance. 

For this purpose, the land, 
which in those days produced an 
anniral rent of five hundred 
pounds, was kept in hand, and 
agricultural superintendance was 
assigned to such individuals of 
the family as were qualified for 
the task by knowledge, health, 
age, and inclination. 

Timber in the mean time was 
cut down, and other necessary 
materials procured ; capacious 
barns, outhouses, and buildings, 
were erected, and the whole of 



the premises neatly arid substan- 
tially repaired; additional house- 
hold stuff was purchased, and a 
stock of fuel and other stores laid 
in, adequate to a large consump- 
tion. 

But no occupation was per- 
mitted to interfere with the pur- 
pose of Mr. Ferrar's retirement, 
every individual of the family 
was expected to attend public 
worship morning and evening ; , 
in this religious exercise he offici- 
ated himself; and to prevent this 
important duty interfering with 
domestic and other employments 
in the farm, the hour of rising:, 
for all, was five in the morning, 
during the winter season, and 
four o'clock in the summer. 

Part of the house was appro- 
priated to the purposes of a 
school, for which proper mas- 
ters were provided, and here the 
children of the family, and such 
others of the neighbouring pa- 
rishes, who would conform to 
rule, were taught to read and 
write, grammar and arithmetic; 
religious instruction was con- 
sidered as an essential part 
of their education ; occasional 
amusements were not prohibited 
for the rising generation, little 
prizes being occasionally dis- 
tributed to those who excelled 
in learning ; also to those, who 
could run, jump, swim, and 
drive an arrow the nearest to the 
mark. 

The 



FERRAR, NICHOLAS. 



89 



The young women of the 
house were cloathed alike in 
black stuff, and such time as was 
not employed at church and in 
domestic duty, was dedicated in 
affording assistance to age, infir- 
mity, and disease; for which 
purposes medicines and con- 
veniences for dispensing them 
were at hand, Mr. Ferrar being 
qualified by the medical know- 
ledge he had acquired to give 
advice and directions in ad- 
ministering the remedies em- 
ployed. 

The female part of the family 
employed themselves at the 
proper season, in drilling cor- 
dial Waters and working carpets 
and cushions for the church and 
the parlours. 

As a hint to strangers and 
others, who occasionally visited 
Little Gedding, the following 
inscription in large letters was 
placed in the great hall at which 
every one entered : — 

" He, who by gentle reproof 
and kind remonstrance strives 
to make us better, is welcome ; 
but he who goeth about to dis- 
turb us in that, which ought to 
be the chief business of every 
christian, is a burthen while he 
stays, and his own conscience 
shall witness against him when 
he departs." 

On another conspicuous pan- 
nel appeared these words :-— 

VOL. XV. 



" He, who is willing to be a 
cheerful participator with us in 
that which is good, confirms us. 
in the same, and acts as a friend; 
but he, who bitterly censures us 
when absent, and makes a show 
of approbation when in our pre- 
sence, incurs the double guilt of 
flattery and slander, and violates 
the bond of christian charity." 

The laws of courtesy and 
hospitality -were not forgotten 
by Mrs. Ferrar or her son, many 
of the nobility, clergy, and other 
travellers, calling on them; King 
Charles the first, on his march 
to the north, honoured them 
with a visit, and Dr. Williams, 
Bishop of Lincoln, was some- 
times their guest. 

JVatching, that species of dis- 
cipline so antient in the chris- 
tian chureh, if not cotemporary 
with its rise, watching was 
considered by Mr. Ferrar as an 
indispensable part of his religious 
exercises j for this purpose, he 
had different oratories for the 
sexes, in which, from the hour 
of nine till past midnight, he 
and different individuals took 
their turns of repeating psalms, 
select passages of scripture, and 
occasionally singing to the or- 
gan, \vhich was set in a low 
stop, that notice might not be 
excited, nor the house disturbed. 

Thus for many years lived 
this singular character, and in 
it his 



FLOOD, HENRY. 



his last moments, elevated by 
hope or deranged by debility, 
he insisted on having experienced 
celestial communication. 

By his relations he was called 
seraphic, and accounted little 
less than a saint; by a late 
writer he is termed an useless en- 
thusiast, and Little Geddins: an 
Armiman nunnery, the Papists 
said he was a Puritan, and the 
Puritans abused him as a Papist. 

To make Mr. Ferrar's exam- 
ple the universal rule of life 
would be inexpedient, irrational, 
and absurd, at the same time it 
were to be wished, that in the 
lives of the majority of persons 
of his rank, fortune, and abili- 
ties, .so much could be found of 
that piety pleasing to God, and 
so little of that depravity which 
brings misery and degradation 
to man. 

In another point of view Mr. 
Ferrar was milch to be praised, 
although he practiced ceremo- 
nies, endured fastings, and per- 
severed in nocturnal watchings 
and other observances, which 
some may consider as not abso- 
lutely enjoined by the christian 
dispensation, he did not regard 
them in the light of what have 
been called by the old con- 
troversialists luorks of supererro- 
gation, which might authorize 
or wipe away practical trans- 



gression ; he did not relax in 
one jot or one tittle in his en- 
deavours to be, what in fact he 
was, a man pure in morals and 
of strict integrity : a dutiful son, 
an affectionate brother, a kind 
neighbour, and an honest man. 

Happy would it be -for the 
world, if all, who like him have 
fasted, and like him have prayed, 
would imitate the correctness of 
his life; and still happier if 
those, who ridicule and set at 
nought all ritual observance, 
would prove by an exemplary 
discharge of their social duties, 
that human virtue stands in need 
of no aid f f m revelation to sti- 
mulate us by hope and fear to 
salutary exertion. 

FLOOD, HENRY, the son 
of a chief justice in Ireland, 
originally of Trinity college, 
Dublin, and remarkable for ele- 
gant accomplishment, gay man- 
ners, and a beautiful person. 

Removing in 1749 to Christ- 
church, Oxford, Dr. Markham, 
now Archbishop of York, be- 
came his tutor; he was also in- 
troduced to the learned and 
ingenious Mr. Tyrrwhitt, as a 
youth of whom something might 
be made. 

These gentlemen saw with 
concern the loose habits of their 
young friend, and his total neg- 
lect 



FLOOD, HENRY, 



iect of every attainment for 
which men are generally sent to 
an university. 

Aware of the inefficacy of ad- 
vising or reproving a boy of 
seventeen, who was heir to an 
estate of five thousand pounds a 
year, they operated on their 
pupil in a more scientific way. 

Observing in Mr. JFlood a 
considerable share of vanity and 
pride, they selected these foibles 
as the means of snatching from 
folly and vice a valuable youth, 
of strong parts, and though mis- 
led by headstrong appetites, of 
an amiable disposition. 

The constitutional warmth 
and .fine spirits of Mr. Flood 
rendering his company highly 
desirable, he received numerous 
invitations^ Dr. Markham and 
Mr. Tyrrwhitt indulged this pro- 
pensity, taking care at the same 
time to introduce and solicit for 
the association of the young Hi- 
bernian men of literary emi- 
nence, and to make the subjects 
on which they particularly ex- 
celled the leading points of 
conversation. 

On these occasions, the high- 
spirited Irishman, who in his 
pwn circles had been looked up 
to as the enlivener of every 
party, and the king of his com- 
panions,— on these occasions, 
feeling his insignificance and in- 



feriority, he sat in silent morti- 
fication. 

This compunction of neglected 
or misapplied powers produced 
a salutary change ; he gradually 
dropped his graceless and unpro- 
fitable companions, devoted that 
precious, and if once lost, that 
irrecoverable portion of a young 
man's day, his mornings, to 
literature and science, and at the 
end of six months had qualified 
himself for joining those superior 
societies which he was after- 
wards so well qualified to im- 
prove and to enjoy. 

The archbishop and Mr. Tyrr- 
whitt have often been heard to 
speak with honest pride con- 
cerning this successful effort of 
judicious superintendance* 

But it was in parliament, and 
as an assertor of Irish parliamen- 
tary independence, that Mr. 
Flood's character became pro- 
minent and popular. 

The law of Sir Edward Poy- 
ning, who was deputy-lieutenant 
of Ireland under an infant vice- 
roy in the reign of King Henry 
the seventh, — this obnoxious 
law, which submitted all acts of 
the Irish legislator to the con- 
troul of an English privy coun- 
cil, he made it the business of 
his life to oppose ; after a long 
and steady struggle under various 
administrations, he ultimately 
N 2 succeeded 



32 



FLOOD, HENRY, 



succeeded in procuring its re- 
peal, I believe during the period 
that Lord Townshend presided 
at the castle. 

For this important measure, 
and the octennial bill (parlia- 
ment, previous to that alteration, 
having generally subsisted du- 
ring the king's life) for these ad- 
vantages, should Ireland ever he 
in a temper to estimate and pro- 
perly apply them, for these ad- 
vantages his country is evi- 
dently indebted to the perse- 
verance of Mr. Flood. 

In the^ civil and political 
storms which for the last thirty 
years have agitated the now 
united ■ kingdom, he appears to 
jhave taken an honest and inde- 
pendent part, acting with or 
against the ministers of the 
crown, as he thought would be 
most advantageous to his native 
land. 

But this mode of conducting 
himself, this opposing measures 
rather than men, which thorough 
paced politicians laugh at, and 
borough partizans always dis- 
approve, occasionally involved 
him in heat and animosity. 

In a memorable debate intro- 
duced fey a motion of Sir Henry 
Cavendish to enforce the neces- 
sity of retrenchment in the ex- 
pences of government, Mr. Flood 
was hurried into a most virulent 



and personal altercation with the 
celebrated Mr. Grattan. 

(i Oppressed with disease,?' 
said the subject of my present ar- 
ticle, ec and little expecting such a 
question to be debated, sir, at 
this late hour of the night, much 
less that any opposition would 
be made to it, I feel myself un- 
able and little inclined to tres- 
pass on the time of the house ; 
but the words of the honorable 
baronet which point out economy, 
so Jar as is consistent with the 
safety and honor of government, 
allow too great a latitude for pub- 
lic profession, many persons con- 
sidering their own welfare and 
support as an essential and im- 
portant part of our national esta- 
blishment. 

f c I thank God I am no po- 
litical partizan, in or out of ad- 
ministration ; the good of my 
country has, I hope, ever been 
my paramount motive and pre- 
vailing sentiment; but if we 
mean to practice economy, let 
our retrenchments be effectual, 
let us not amuse the people with 
fine-spun theories of frugality 
within these walls, and the mo- 
ment we retire practice corrupt 
and unnecessary expenditure in 
every department with which 
we are connected." 

Mr. Grattan evidently, irri- 
tated and disturbed, although 
there 



FLOOD, HENRY. 



there seemed nothing said per- 
sonally applicable to him, except 
as a furious politician once ob- 
served, that Mr. Flood looked 
at his friend,— Mr. Grattan 
arose in haste with the follow- 
ing words :— 

« I will not take up the time 
of the house with apologies for 
bodily infirmities, or the affec- 
tation of them, I will not enter 
into a defence of my character, 
for I never apostatized. 

" The honorable reward which 
a grateful nation has bestowed, 
binds me to make every return 
in my power, and more particu- 
larly to oppose all unnecessary ex- 
pence, but I am not sure that 
this is just the time for re- 
trenching national expenditure 
\n tine army. 

"At a moment, sir, when 
England has acted justly, I will 
not say generously, at a moment 
when she has lost an important 
branch of her empire, and is 
bleeding under the wounds of a 
war with all the world, at such a 
moment, I would not by a hasty 
measure even seem to deprive 
her of her only comfort, the 
friendship and cordial co-opera- 
tion of Ireland." 

" I appeal to the feelings of 
the house," replied Mr. Flood, 
" if any thing could be more 
uncandidand harsh than the gen- 
tleman's allusion to my infirm 



state of health, and the un- 
founded charge he brings against 
me of affecting complaints I do 
not labour under; the very pre- 
carious state of my health is 
known to many honorable mem- 
bers of this house, and if neces- 
sary, can be verified by profes- 
sional evidence. 

« € But I trust that neither my 
character nor that of those with 
whom I act, requires any col- 
lateral help when placed in com- 
petition with that of the right 
honorable member ; we do' not 
fear his nocturnal attacks, I am 
ready to meet hl^ai any where, 
on any ground, by night or by 
day. 

" T do not come here, sir, to 
delude the people by promises I 
never mean to perform; I never 
threatened to impeach a judge, 
and then shrunk from the busi- 
ness; I never called the Irish 
House of Commons, a parlia- 
ment of prostitutes, and then 
subsisted on their vote; I am 
not the mendicant patriot who 
was purchased by the people for 
a sum of money, and then sold 
them for prompt payment. 

"The gentleman talks of 
never having been an apostate, 
but I defy him to produce a 
single instance in which, whe- 
ther in or out of place, I ever 
changed my principles; a pa- 
triot out of office^ if he accepts 
a place 



94 



FLOOD, HENRY. 



a place on that elevated ground 
and with that unbending spirit 
with which a patriot always 
may and ought to serve the 
crown, may render the most im- 
portant services to his country ; 
I appeal to you, sir, to declare, 
whether I did not resign the mo- 
ment I saw measures recom- 
mended contrary to the system 
I had laid down. 

" I impute the whole of the 
gentleman's virulence and vio- 
lence to disappointment ; he 
finds he cannot support his fame 
and fill his purse; it is the groan 
of an expiring reputation; we 
can all remember when the glo- 
ries of the great Duke of Marl- 
borough ghrunk and withered 
before those of the right honor- 
able gentleman; palaces, supe- 
rior to Blenheim, were to be 
built for his reception; pyramids 
and pillars, emblems and pane- 
gyrics cut in marble, were pre- 
paring ; but the fabric is crum- 
bled into dust, the dream of im- 
position and infatuation are 
vanished. 

" But the gentleman founds 
his claim to national gratitude 
on the prodigious merits of his 
simple repeal, a measure, per- 
mit me to say, sir, scouted by 
•every able politician on both 
sides of the water ; his gross 
ignorance was pleaded at the 
time as his only excuse; this be- 



trayed a defect in the head, but 
to persist after his error was ex- 
posed proved a badness of 
heart." 

Mr. Grattan observed in re- 

(i I would wish to avoid per- 
sonality, but am forced into it 
by the envenomed froth of a foul 
tongue; it is not however the 
slander of a bad character that 
can tarnish my fame; the honor- 
able gentleman affected to des- 
pise making any comparison of 
our merits, yet indelicately and 
unfairly dwelt on the subject* 

" I will suppose a public 
man, not now in this house, but 
who might once have been 
in it, who abused every man 
who differed from him, and be- 
trayed every one who trusted 
him. 

ce I will begin from his cra- 
dle, and divide his life into three 
stages; in the first he was in- 
temperate; in the second, cor- 
rupt; and in the third, sediti- 
ous; when such a man was 
wasting the time of the house 
with the wearisome flourishes of 
egotism and self-approbation, I 
would stop him in his fulsome 
career with the following words 
(fixing his eyes on Mr, Flood) :- T r- 

(e Your talents are great, but 
your life is infamous ; you were 
silent for years, and were silent 
for money: when affairs of con- 
sequence 



FLOOD, HENRY. 



05 



sequence to the state were de- 
bating, you were seen passing 
by these doors like a guilty spi- 
rit, just waiting for the moment 
of putting the question, that you 
might step in and give your 
venal vote; or you might be 
seen hovering over the dome 
like an ill-omened bird of 
night, with sepulchral notes, a 
cadaverous aspect, and a broken 
beak, ready to stoop and pounce 
upon your prey. 

" You can be trusted by no 
man ; the people cannot trust 
you, ministers cannot trust you; 
you tell the nation it is ruined 
by others, while it is sold by 
you; you fled from the em- 
bargo ; you fled from the mutiny 
bill; you fled from the sugar 
bill ; I therefore tell you, in the 
face of your country, before all 
the world, and to your face, that 
you are not an honest man." 

Mr. Flood. " A most ex- 
traordinary and unwarrantable 
harangue has been heard; the 
right honorable gentleman set 
out with disavowing personality, 
but could any thing more grossly 
so, or more venomously have 
been poured forth; I trust my 
public as well as my private cha- 
racter is beyond the reach of base, 
illiberal, and false insinuations ; 
for the first, I can safely, appeal 
to four-and-twenty years spent 
in the service of my country; 



for the last, to my friends, my 
tenants, and my family. 

" I am an apostate forsooth, 
because I accepted a place, but 
I rendered td the full as essential 
services to Ireland with the first 
office of state on my shoulders, 
as ever the right honorable gen- 
tleman did with his pack of 
mendicancy on his lack." 

Mr. Flood was proceeding to 
defend himself, but being ad- 
dressed by the speaker, who in 
the kindest and politest manner 
intreated him to forbear, and the 
whole house joining in the wish, 
he retired considerably agitated; 
but being anxious to repel the 
torrent of obloquy which had 
been poured forth against him, 
he was permitted a few days, af- 
ter to address the speaker in 
words to the following effect : — 

'* Having been interrupted on 
Tuesday last, when I was de- 
fending myself against a most 
furious attack, I proceed to 
make use of the liberty which 
has been granted me of con- 
cluding what I had to say, and 
to thank the house for this in- 
dulgence! 

" It may be recollected that 
my life was divided into three 
parts by the right honorable- 
gentleman, and dispatched by 
three epithets ; the first, as in- 
temperate ; the second, as venal ; 
the third, as seditious; it is not 
by 



FLOOD, HENRY. 



by epithets the point at issue can 
be settled, I appeal to facts 
which are upon record, and can- 
not be controverted : for this 
reason, sir, I must trespass a lit- 
tle on your patience. 

u My political life, for I ap- 
prehend it is that only the gen- 
tleman meant to speak of, my 
political life includes the differ- 
ent administrations of the Duke 
of Bedford, Lord Halifax, the 
Duke of Northumberland, Lord 
Hertford, and Lord Townshend, 
all of whom I at different times 
supported and opposed,* this 
drew down upon me from sel- 
fish, malevolent, and superfi- 
cial observers, the charge of 
tergiversation and inconsistency. 
" I had at an early period 
fixed on three great objects as 
essentially necessary for the 
welfare of Ireland ; a repeal of 
Poyning's act; the establish- 
ment of a constitutional militia; 
and an act for limiting the du- 
ration of parliament. 

<( I will not deny that I pur- 
sued these great and salutary 
points with ardor ; spirit, and 
energy are the faults of my 
nature, and said to be the cha- 
racteristic features of my country. 

" Every Viceroy, who ap- 
peared friendly to these neces- 
sary measures, I aided with my 
vote and influence, but those, 
who appeared averse to granting 



them, I opposed*- and I thank 
God, I ultimately succeeded. 

" This is a plain tale, and ac- 
counts satisfactorily for a con- 
duct which has been called in- 
temperate and venal ; the indis- 
criminate abuse of declamatory 
invective, however cloathed in 
flowery diction, cannot stand 
the test of-an unvarnished narra- 
tion of facts. 

" I come next to the crying, 
and in the right honorable gen- 
tleman's eyes, the unpardonable 
sin of accepting an appoint- 
ment; this was offered and ac- 
cepted in a way I trust not dis- 
honorable to any of the parties 
concerned, I was made a mi- 
nister FOR THE BENEFIT OF 
MT COUNTRY. 

" Having stated my princi- 
ples and opinions, from which I 
neither could or would depart a 
single iota, I observed, that if T 
could with those principles for 
my guide, assist his Majesty's 
government, I was ready to do 
it; even after the grant of the 
office had arrived, I appeal to 
two gentlemen who now hear 
me, whether I did not, to make 
all safe and prevent all possibi- 
lity of mistake, again state my 
conditions in writing, and trans- 
mit them to the lord lieutenant. 

<( My . opposition to Lord 

Townshend has been mentioned, 

but I had good and sufficient 

grounds ; 



FLOOD, HENRY. 



97 



grounds; he violated the privi- 
lege of parliament with regard to 
money-bill?, and unnecessarily 
divided the commissioners of 
the revenue into two boards; I 
was the humble means of reduc- 
ing the number from twelve to 
seven, and two boards into one; 
this saved the nation twenty 
thousand pounds a year. 

if I have been accused, in the 
figurative and poetic language 
of the right honorable gentle- 
man, with hovering over the 
dome of this house like a bird 
of night; my decayed teeth 
and wan countenance produced 
by a severe bilious attack might 
have been spared. 

" I accepted an ostensible 
post under lord Harcourt, for 
which I am stigmatized as venal ; 
I supported his administration, 
and would again support it, be- 
cause he gave me influence in 
his councils and consented to my 
favorite measures, on [which, in 
my opinion, the salvation of 
Ireland depended; I felt my 
consequence, I served my coun- 
try, I was independent, I was 
free. 

" In matters of importance, 
and when he was clearly right, 
I voted for him; but in mat- 
ters of importance, and when in 
my own and the public opinion 
he was evidently wrong, I op- 
posed him; on points of small 

VOL. IV. 



moment, to prove that I was not 
a mere place-man, the tool of a 
salary, I did not vote at all; this 
gave the right honorable gentle- 
man an opportunity to accuse 
me of absconding, and for his 
favorite poetic flight up to the 
corridor in poetry and fiction, 
he is in his element, but plain 
matter of fact soon brings him 
wing-broken to the ground. 

" Under the Earls of Buck- 
inghamshire and Carlisle, I am 
accused of having been seditious : 
I told the former without cere- 
mony that I would not attend 
the cabinet councils of the sage 
Mr. Heron; it was during the 
administration of the latter, that 
I was dismissed from office for 
delivering my sentiments with- 
out reserve. 

" The day on which I spoke 
I shall not easily forget, nor the 
occasion; they are engraved up- 
on my heart by an incident 
which does not occur every day; 
an honorable and worthy man, 
since dead, with a train of pa- 
triots and excellent individuals 
for. ever to be revered by their 
country, this worthy character, 
whose name is dear to every dis- 
interested Irishman, Walter Hus- 
sey Burgh, crossed the house, 
congratulated me on my con- 
duct, eagerly seized my hand in 
open parliament, and said in the 
eye of the world that I Was a 
o patriot 



98 



GOSSON, STEPHEN. 



patriot and an honest man, 
whom no considerations could 
tempt from duty. 

"It was I confess a proud, 
a triumphant day; such a testi- 
mony, from such a man, and in 
such a place, I consider as an 
ample reward for all my exer- 
tions. 

" He was a senator in whom 
the scrutinizing eye of party 
malignity could not find a ble- 
mish; though not ennobled by 
patent he was of a noble nature, 
he wished ardently to serve his 
country, but did not wish to 
monopolize that service, he was 
willing to share and to commu- 
nicate a portion of the credit and 
reputation he enjoyed. 

ce I could mention other tes- 
timonies, if it were not for tres- 
passing on the time of the house, 
some of which have been re- 
ceived, sir, since I entered your 
doors; but I appeal to those 
who have known me from my 
childhood, at our own univer- 
sity, at Oxford, and in the 
world, whether I deserve the 
character of a seditious man and 
an incendiary. 

u It is necessary for the ho- 
nor of this assembly to enquire 
and to determine whether the 
description of me be correct ; if 
it is, you ought to expel so un- 
worlhv a member." 



COOD MOTHERS AND 
MAIDEN AUNTS.— To 

worthy females of this descrip- 
tion, the world, but more par- 
ticularly the literary world is 
highly indebted; incessant ma- 
ternal care stimulated and im- 
proved to such various acquire- 
ments and the fine imagination 
of Sir William Jones; the honest 
patriotism and poetical talents of 
Mr. Hayley ; and but for the 
tender superintendance of his 
aunt, the modern historian Gib- 
bon would have sunk under the 
preponderancy of, early disease, 
and a tender constitution. 

/pfOSSON, STEPHEN, a 
^J* man of Kent, a scholar of 
Christchurch college, Oxford, 
and a cotemporary. of Spencer 
and Sir Philip Sidney, whom 
he imitated, and as the opinion 
of some was, excelled in pas- 
toral poetry. 

Soon after his ordination, he 
accepted the curacy of Wigbo- 
row in Essex, and afterwards 
officiated at the church of St. 
Botolph in the city of London. 

There was nothing either in the 
matter or the manner of his dis- 
courses deserving of praise or of 
censure; their prominent feature, 
and indeed the burthen of his 
daily conversation, was to cry 
out against and preach down dra- 
matic 



GOSSON, STEPHEN. 



99 



matic performances of all kinds; 
the chief business of his pen as 
well as his tongue, appears to 
have been to deter his congrega- 
tions, and all persons he could 
influence, from frequenting play- 
houses, and all other places 
where interludes and such like 
unchristian performances were 
exhibited. 

Not satisfied with assailing 
the poor players in a parish pul- 
pit, he bellowed forth a vocife- 
rous Philippic against them 
from Paul's cross, and thinking 
his triumph not complete, 'till 
he had attacked them from the 
press, he published in 1579, 
" The School of Abuse, a plea- 
sant invective against pipers, 
players, jesters, and such like 
caterpillars of the state. " 

Yet I suspect, that Gosson,, 
like other declaimers against 
.luxurious enjoyments of other 
kinds, had frequently visited the 
spots he vilified so much; the 
following picture, copied from 
the book just mentioned, must 
have, been taken from the life. 

" In these places," says 
Gosson, speaking of playhouses, 
st in these places you shall see 
such pushing, shoving, and 
shouldering to get at the women, 
such care for their garments 
that they be not trod on, such 
eyes to their laps, that no 



chips light in them, such pil- 
lows to their backs, that they 
take no hurt, such nuzzling in 
their ears to say I know not 
what, such presenting of pip- 
pins, such toying, such licking, 
such smiling and smirking, 
such winking, such rivalship 
and out-generalling in settling 
who shall man them home, that 
in good truth it is no small part 
of the comedie to mark their 
behaviour." 

This painting, were the ex- 
pressions modernized, and a few 
additional portraits of fruit wo- 
men and drunken box-lobby 
heroes introduced, he might 
pass for a hasty sketch taken 
off-hand behind the boxes of 
Covent or Drury. 

G RATTAN, Mr.— The fol- 
lowing animated sketch 
is said to be from the pen of 
this gentleman. 

" The secretary (Mr. Pitt's 
father) stood alone ; modern de- 
generacy had not reached him ; 
original and unaccommodating, 
he was a patriot of the old 
school, with whom Scipio and 
Camillus would not have blushed 
to rank. 

" Overbearing, impracticable, 
haughty, and impatient of con- 
troul, crooked policy and deceit 
he despised, too proud to flatter, 
o 2 and 



100 



GRILLON. 



and too sincere for falsehood, 
he never sunk to the level of 
common state chicanery. 

"The interest and glory of 
England were his great objects; 
honest fame his chief reward. 

ie His talents and integrity 
paralysed party, and without 
corruption made a venal age 
unanimous; his influence as a 
public speaker was like that of a 
magician, imperceptible, but ir- 
resistible, his eloquence was 
sometimes the thunder and 
sometimes the music of the 
spheres ; the subtle arguments of 
Murray, and the ready inven- 
tion of Townshend, were con- 
founded by the electric flash of 
conviction, with which Mr. Pitt 
struck down all before him: 
his plans were not merely for 
Great Britain and the present 
age, but for Europe and distant 
posterity : such was the strength 
of his mental optics, so adequate, 
and so powerful the means he 
employed, and in their effects so 
rapid, that he was not only 
adored by the people as a great 
minister, but almost worshipped 
as a prophet ; they would not 
believe, that any measure advised 
by Pitt could fail of success ; 
the good fortune of his adminis- 
tration in a great measure justi- 
fied their flattery. 

" Still, quiet, domestic life, 
had few charms in his eve ; bu- 



ried at intervals from his family 
and the world, he occasionally 
visited our system ; not to con- 
sult, but to direct ; not to ad- 
vise, but to decide. 

"A venal treasury, and a 
long train of ministerial under- 
lings, trembled at a character so 
exalted and predominating; they 
saw with terror and surprise, 
the cloud of difficulty and dis- 
aster, in which they had involved 
the country, dispelled; their 
eyes were dazzled by the fiery 
rays of that glory which burnt 
forth; crouching to the earth, 
they looked up to him as one of 
a superior class of beings, who 
could in a moment create or 
subvert, who could establish, 
or overwhelm, and strike a blow 
which should resound through^ 
out the universe. 

" After he retired, the malig- 
nant tools of corruption affected 
to whisper something, they 
scarce knew what, of his title 
and his pension ; the history of 
our country and the wounds in- 
flicted on her enemies best 
prove how well he had earned 
and how richly he deserved 
much more than ever he re- 
ceived." 

(T^ RILLON, a worthy and in T 
^J* trepid French captain, a co- 
temporary with D'Aubigny, who 
is the subject of a long, and I fear 
a dry 



GRILLON. 



101 



a dry article, in the first volume 
of this collection. 

Grillon was a staunch Catho- 
lic, and possessed like that emi- 
nent Hugonot, considerable spi- 
rit and incorruptible integrity; 
they were accompanied by a 
gentleness of conduct and suavity 
of manners, in which D'Aubigny 
was grossly deficient. 

This perhaps in some degree 
may be accounted for, when we 
recollect, that the cause of one 
was declining, while the friends 
and faith of the other were pre- 
dominant and triumphant. 

In the sea-fight of Lepanto 
Grillon rendered essential ser- 
vices to Don John of Austria ; 
and in the war of the League, 
under the banners of the duke of 
Guise, distinguished himself by 
many heroic atchievements ; a 
subject of Henry the third, king 
of France, he deserved a better 
master and a better cause. 

Jealous of the growing power 
and reputation of the duke, this 
abominable king was so unfeel- 
ing, as to ask Grillon to put him 
to~death. 

Shocked at the baseness and 
inhumanity of a man, or rather 
a monster, who could ask a sol- 
dier to murder his patron and 
companion in arms, he pre- 
tended at first to understand, that 
the king meant he should chal- 
lenge the duke to single combat. 



Professing his readiness to 
avenge the cause of his sovereign 
in any honorable way, he asked 
what crime the duke had com- 
mitted : " He is become too 
great por a suejecT," re- 
plied the king, with that malig- 
nant spirit in which little-minded 
rascals always regard superior 
merit ; " he is too intimately 
connected with the duke of 
Savoy, and I can never forget 
the terrible day of the barri- 
cades. 

" But remember, Grillon, that 
it is not my intention for you to 
fight with the duke of Guise; 
the life of a man so sincerely at- 
tached to me as. you are, your 
valuable life is not to be risqued 
by such encounters." 

" If the duke" said Grillon, 
" has been faithless to his God, 
his king, or his country, let him 
be arraigned before a competent 
tribunal, and undergo the punish- 
ment of his crimes in due form 
of law, and by the hands of an 
executioner." 

" It is impossible" said the 
king, a for me to proceed 
against the chief of the League 
in such a manner, it would raise 
half the kingdom in arms agau jt 
me ; a more private and secure 
method of removing him must he 
tried-, this service I expect from 
you, and the reward shall be 
proportionate to the value I set 
on 



102 



GRILLON. 



on its being performed; the 
staff of Constable of France shall 
be placed in your hands." 

Overwhelmed with grief and 
surprise, it was some time 
before Grillon could speak; 
after a long pause he replied. 
" Permit me, sire, to depart; it is 
impossible that your majesty can 
value or esteem a person to 
whom you make such a propo- 
sal; a soldier never dreads to 
meethis enemy in the field, but he 
is not an assassin, he never stabs 
a man in the dark, a man, in 
the present instance, from whom 
I have received many favors, and 
under whose command I have 
conquered your most inveterate 
foes, I will instantly depart 
from your court, and retire to 
the bosom of my family, a 
family, whose reputation has 
never yet been tarnished bv a 
base or unworthy action." 

When the king found, that he 
could. not prevail on him to com- 
mit murder, he pressed him no 
longer. 

Grillon, as I have before ob- 
served, was a cotemporary with 
D'Aubigny, but strictly per- 
formed his duty without imita- 
ting the violence of that haughty 
dissenter; he also served the 
same monarch, and fought in 
many battles with Tavanes, to 
whom an article in this collec- 
tion is assigned; but more scru- 



pulously delicate in his notions 
than the zealous marshal, be 
taught his employers the differ- 
ence between the honorable ser- 
vices of a military commander 
and the disgraceful compliances 
of a servant of all work. 

In the last scene of life, having 
considerably exceeded the age 
of man, the incurable evils of 
that state, pain, languor, and a 
general failure of his powers, in- 
tellectual as well as corporeal, 
pressed heavily upon him. 

Yet a few hours only before 
his death, while his nephew was 
weeping over him, Grillon felt 
one of those momentary inter- 
vals of energy and correctness, 
which sometimes precede the 
stroke of death. 

. Seeing the. young man in 
tears, the dying soldier ex- 
claimed. i( Why, mv friend, do 
you weep? what rational 

CAUSE FOR GRIEF CAN THERE BE 
IN DEATH, WHEN WE HAVE 
OUTLIVED THE POWER OF BEING 
USEFUL OR agreeable; LIFE 
CANNOT BE DESIRABLE TO A 
MAN, WHO IS LITTLE BETTER 
THAN A BURTHEN TO HIxMSELF 
AND A MELANCHOLY INCUM- 
BRANCE TO OTHERS." 

The duke de Crillon, who at- 
tacked Minorca in the year 
1 78 1, is said to be a descendant 
from the subject of this article, 
but strangely forgot himself on 
that 



HASTINGS, Mr. 



103 



that occasion, when he addressed 
a letter to the governor, in 
which he offered him one hun- 
dred thousand pounds, and the 
most lucrative office in the ser- 
vice of France or Spain, if he 
would deliver into the duke's 
hands Fort St. Philip. 

The general's answer to this 
dishonorable proposal has been 
thought worth preserving. 

"When your brave ancestor 
was desired by his sovereign to 
assassinate the duke of Guise; 
he returned such an answer as 
you ought to have done, when 
the king of Spain directed you to 
make an attempt on the honour 
of a man, whose birth is as il- 
lustrious as your own. 

Instead of practising the dis- 
graceful arts of corruption, at- 
tendto humanity, and send cloath- 
ing for the unfortunate prison- 
ers in my possession ; let it be 
placed at a distance, where the 
out-posts may take it, as I will 
admit of no contact in future, 
but such as is hostile and in- 
veterate.' ' 

Strong attachments to parti- 
cular names and sir-names oc- 
cur every day in private life, 
and dislikes equally strong 
against others ; in one instance, 
I believe in suppressing- the 
Rameof the husband of the wor- 
thy but unfortunate Olympia 
Fulvia Morato, the editor raised 



a laugh against himself, by what 
was called by a satirical critic 
prudish affectation. 

Yet such conduct has been ' 
imitated by exalted characters; 
the immediate ancestor of the 
nobleman who made the indeco- 
rous offer to the English general, 
is said to have changed his title 
from Grillon to Crillon, because 
the former was the French term 
for a troublesome and filthy do- 
mestic reptile. 

HASTINGS, Mr. a coun- 
try gentleman, of Wood- 
lands near Cranbpurn in Dor- 
setshire, a sketch of whose 
.life has been given by his v 
neighbour, Anthony Ashley 
Cooper, the literary earl of 
Shaftesbury, and the second no- 
ble lord who bore that title. 

Mr. Hastings was the son, 
the brother, and the uncle of an 
earl of Huntingdon, but feeling 
an early inclination for the 
amusements and occupation of a 
country life, chose for his abode 
the spot mentioned at the begin- 
ning of this article, and devoted 
himself wholly to field' sports. 

His house, a large, old-fash- 
ioned building, stood in the 
midst of an extensive park, well 
stocked with deer, rabbits, fish 
ponds and venerable oaks. 

His kennel was plentifully far-* 
nished with dogs of all descrip- 
tions, 



104 



HASTINGS, Mr. 



tions : buck, fox, hare, otter, 
and badger hounds; hawks, 
long and short winged ; rods, 
lines, and nets of every kind for 
fishing and fowling; a walk in 
the new forest, and the manor 
of Christchurch, supplied him 
with ample means of enjoying 
his favorite amusements in their 
highest perfection. 

In such pursuits, his time was 
wholly occupied, except a" few 
intervals which he snatched for 
his amours; there being no 
woman (I fear, married or sin- 
gle) in his neighbourhood, with 
whom it was her own fault if he 
was not intimately acquainted. 

•In the mean time he was po- 
pular, and generally accepted by 
their husbands, their brothers, 
and their fathers, who always 
found a hearty welcome at his 
house, in beef, pudding, and 
mild ale. 

No visitor had reason to fear 
he should dirt the house, for the 
great hall was strewed with mar- 
row bones, and full of hawk's 
patches, hounds, spaniels, and 
terriers ; the upper side hung 
with fox skins, of this and the 
last year's killing, with here and 
there a pole-cat's intermixed; 
gins and huntsman's poles in 
abundance. 

The parlour was furnished in 
a similar way ; on a large brick 
hearth lav two or three favorite 



dogs and cats, with litters of 
puppies and kittens in several of 
the chairs ; these were not to be 
disturbed. The windows, which 
were large, served for arrows, 
cross-bows, and such like ac- 
coutrements; the corners of the 
room were stocked with hunting 
and hawking poles. 

At the lower end of the par- 
lour stood an oyster table, which 
was of constant use, twice a day, 
all the year round, for he never 
failed eating oysters before din- 
ner and supper, at all seasons; 
these were supplied from Poole, 
a neighbouring sea-port. 

In another part of the room 
were two small tables and a 
desk ; on one was a church Bible, 
on the other Fox's Book of 
Martyrs ; upon these, and al- 
most covering them, were a 
curious collection of hawks 
hoods, bells, and old green hats 
with their crowns thrust in, so 
as to hold pheasants eggs ; a bird 
he highly valued and fed himself; 
a backgammon table found its 
place beneath. 

At one end of the room was 
the door of a closet, wherein 
stood the wine and the strong 
beer; in the distribution of which 
moderation and economy were 
observed; not being intemperate 
himself, he would never suffer it 
in others. 

On the other side was a door 
into 



HIGHWAYMAN. 



ios 



into ah antieht chapel no 
longer used for devotion, the 
pulpit was never without a cold 
chine of beef, venison pasty, 
gammon of bacon, and a large 
apple-pie with the crust well 
baked. 

His table, though good to eat 
at, cost him but little more than 
for beef and mutton, as the field- 
Sporting amply supplied the 
rest, except indeed on Fridays, 
when he had the best of sea and 
other fish; on this day the 
neighbouring gentry would oc- 
casionally dine with Mr. Has- 
tings; he drank a glass or two 
of wine after his meals, but of- 
tener sack, sweetened with syrup 
of July flowers; with his dinner, 
he took a pint of table beer, 
which he would occasionally stir 
With a sprig of rosemary. 

He was naturally cheerful and 
of a good temper, but unhandi- 
ness or inattention soon made 
him angry, when he would call 
his servants bastards and cuck- 
oldy knaves, in one of which, 
and sometimes in both, he 
spoke truth to his own know- 
ledge. 

Mr. Hastings was short of 
stature, but strong, moderately 
plump, and active ; his hair was 
flaxen j and his clothes always 
green; in this respect, though 
neat, he was not extravagant, 
the whole of his covering from 
head to foot not costing, when 

vol. iy. 



new, five pounds ; he lived to be 
an hundred years old, and never 
used spectacles; he mounted 
his horse to the last without 
help, and when past fourscore 
was in at the death of a hare as 
soon as any. 

HIGHWAYMAN; addi- 
tion to that article in my 
second volume. 

In the hurry of my last publi- 
cation I omitted mentioning a 
well authenticated circumstance, 
which is probably in the recol- 
lection of many of my readers. , 

A certain popular minister of 
the gospel, who was preaching 
the funeral sermon of his de- 
ceased servant^ took occasion to 
exhort the congregation in a& 
earnest and impressive manner 
against yielding to despair; 

" However sunk in the depths 
of wickedness, however polluted 
by vicious enormity," said the 
preacher, " no sinner is out of 
the reach of God's mercy, if 
properly sought after ly repent- 
ance, and followed ly positive 
amendment. 

" Our departed friend, whose 
death has now brought us to- 
gether, was once a man of vi- 
olence, an abandoned profligate, 
and the circumstance which 
first led to my acquaintance with 
him was his presenting a pistol 
to my breast, as a robber and a 
highwayman. 
p "Yet 



106 



HUMANITY REWARDED. 



ce Yet from his subsequent 
contrition and melioration, and 
his reliance on the intercession 
of a redeemer, I trust he is now 
in the realms of everlasting 
bliss." 

HUMANITY REWARD- 
ED, and in a singular 
way. 

A spirited opposer of the 
slave-trade, whose evils it will be 
found more politically right to 
alleviate, than wholly to abolish 
the traffic, — this energetic writer 
compares all parties concerned 
in carrying it on to the ,worst 
species of highwaymen, because 
the marauder only invades the 
rights of society, but the slave- 
merchant those of nature. 

This writer makes an excep- 
tion in favor of a few individuals, 
and produces an example in the 
commander of a fort in Africa, 
who by his humane exertions 
considerably diminished the hor- 
rors of an odious species of com- 
merce, which he was deputed by 
his employers to superintend. 

In every instance where the 
loss of liberty was augmented by 
the probable separation of a 
husband from a wife, or children 
from their parents, he purchased 
such prisoners of the dealers, 
- and gave them permission to 
retire if they were so inclined, 
for it frequently happened, that 
in -the warmth of grateful trans- 



port to their benefactor, they 
shewed no desire of returning ; 
this circumstance probably arose 
from their country being the 
seat of war, and their dread of 
falling into the hands of new 
tyrants. 

On one occasion, this benevo- 
lent man, whose name was 
Schilderop, a native of Den- 
mark, on one occasion he was 
eminently fortunate and suc- 
cessful; observing among the 
captives brought down for sale 
a female, whose manners and 
appearance interested him in an 
extraordinary manner, and ob- 
serving that she was accompa- 
nied by a little boy, whom she 
occasionally pressed to her arms, 
while tears, sighs, and distracted 
looks, decisively marked her as 
an agonizing mother, dreading 
every moment to be torn from 
her beloved child, he instantly 
purchased them both, and ex- 
erted himself so effectually, 
that in a few weeks the two 
liberated Africans were safely 
conducted to their home and 
restored to the arms of a 
family, which could scarcely 
believe so glorious an action 
could be performed by Europe- 
ans, whom they had hitherto 
considered as the betrayers and 
tyrants of the world. 

The female he had thus re- 
stored to liberty was the wife of 
a prince in the interior part of 
the 



IDEA OF A HORSE. 



107 



the country, who had been taken 
by surprize while her husband 
and elder sons were engaged in 
a distant warfare ; the acuteness 
of his distress at rinding when 
he returned his habitation smok- 
ing in ruins and his wife and 
darling son carried into captivity, 
need not be described; or the 
transports he felt, when after 
having considered them as for 
ever lost and devoted to violence 
and violation, they were again 
presented to him uninjured, and 
rushed into his arms. 

But the generous African was 
not of a temperament to suffer 
so benevolent an action to pass 
unrewarded; he made it his busi- 
ness to communicate to the wor- 
thy Dane his wish, that on a 
certain day he would send a 
small party of men from the 
fort to conduct with safety a 
person he meant to send to him 
on an important mission. 

When the detachment ar- 
rived at the appointed place, they 
found a young woman elabo- 
rately adorned in the fashion of 
the country, and surrounded by 
attendants laden with treasure 
and with such articles as he 
knew would be highly acceptable 
to Schilderop, his humane bene- 
factor. 

They were protected to the 
fort, and after depositing their 
presents at his feet, one of the 
female attendants somewhat ad- 



vanced in years, approached 
the commander and gave him to 
understand that the 5 oung wo- 
man who accompanied them 
was the prince's eldest child, a 
virgin of eighteen, the only 
daughter of her mother ; that 
deeply impressed with his gene- 
rous proceeding, so gloriously 
opposite to that of most Europe- 
ans, her parents were anxious so 
good a man should give them a 
grandson. 

I am not enabled to say how 
the Dane acted on this singular 
occasion ; a refusal of any of the 
presents would have been con- 
strued into ungrateful con- 
tempt and a violation of their 
laws of hospitality, while yield- 
ing to the intreaties of the prince 
would have been a direliction of 
integrity and nuptial duty, as he 
was a married man and the father 
of a family; whether human 
virtue on this occasion received 
any help from the colour of the 
lady's skin is a point I cannot 
decide ; yet a connoisseur in these 
commodities informs me, that in. 
such latitudes he prefers the 
sable beauties of Africa to our 
snow white beauties of the 
north. 

IDEA OF A HOKSE writ- 
ten by a modern veterinary 
professor, which a connois- 
seur insists on my inserting at 
the peril of his displeasure; a 
p 2 threat 



108 



IDEA OF A HORSE. 



threat from a quarter so formi- 
dable what can I do but obey ? 

" His head (I mean the 
horse's not the connoisseur's) 
should be without flesh, and 
proportionate in length and size 
to the body and ljmbs ; his eyes 
rather prominent, but the lids 
of them thin and dry. 

"The ears should be thin, 
narrow, erect, of middling length, 
and not distant from each other; 
the forehead flat, not large and 
square, but running almost in a 
straight line to the muzzle, 
which should be small and fine, 
yet the nostrils sufficiently di- 
lated. 

" His mouth should be deep; 
the tongue not large, nor should 
he be apt to let it appear as if it 
were hanging out, which is some- 
times the case with old horses; 
the jaw bones ought to be wide 
at top, where they join to the 
neck, which should meet the 
head, not too abruptly, but ta- 
peringly, and with a moderate 
curve. 

"The neck should be of a 
moderate length, not too thick 
on the upper part, nor too large 
and deep, but rising from the 
withers or forehand, and after- 
wards declining at the extremity 
form a segment of a circle ; un- 
derneath the neck should be 
straight from the chest, and by 
no means convex or bellying 
out. 



"The shoulders of a good 
horse are capacious and of large 
extent, so as to appear the most 
conspicuous part of the animal ; 
but they ought not to be fleshy ; 
they should rise fairly to the top 
of the withers, which must be 
well raised ; the chest should be 
full, not coming to an edge, 
narrow, and pinched. 

" His body is required to be 
deep and substantial ; his back 
a plane of good width but hand- 
somely rounded; the back-bone 
straight or with a slight bend, it 
ought not to be short; loins 
wide, and the muscles of the 
reins or fillets full, and swelling 
moderately on each side of the 
back-bone. 

" There ought to be a suffici- 
ent space between the ribs and 
hip-bones; the hip-bones should 
be round ; the buttocks deep and 
oval ; the rump level with the 
heighth of the withers, the croup 
must have reasonable space and 
not sink too suddenly ; the tail 
should not be set on too low, 
but ought to be nearly on a level 
with the back. 

" The hind quarters should 
spread to a greater extent than 
the fore parts ; and the hind feet 
stand further asunder than those 
before. 

"The thighs ought to be 
straight, large, long, and mus- 
cular ; 



IMPARTIAL JUSTICE. 



109 



cular; the hock wide and clean; 
the shank flat, but not too long, 
yet of sufficient substance; its 
sinew large and distinct, and 
the fetlocks long: the hocks 
should form an angle of such 
extent, as to place the feet im- 
mediately under the flanks. 

" The fore arms, like the 
thighs, should be large, muscu- 
lar, and long, the elbows not 
turning outwards; the knees 
lean and large; the cannon- 
bone flat, strong, but not dis- 
proportionately long; the ten- 
don large. 

(C The fore arm and shank 
ought to form nearly a straight 
line; the fetlock joints must be 
large and clean; the pasterns 
moderately sloping, but not too 
long, and their largeness propor- 
tionate to their length ; the co- 
ronary rings neither thick nor 
swelled, but clean, dry, and 
hairy. 

" The feet should not be too 
high nor too flat, but form a 
base sufficient for the weight 
they have to sustain ; the hoofs 
dark, shining, and without seams 
or wrinkles, tough and strong 
(but not hard) like oak; the 
foot internally concave ; the sole 
hard but not shrunk; the heels 
wide and of middling height; a 
tough and sound frog, but not 
fleshy, or too large; the feet, 



equal in size, should stand ex- 
actly parallel, so that the front 
or foe incline neither inward 
nor point outwards; the fore 
feet should stand perpendicular 
to the chest, not too much un- 
der it; they should be less wide 
apart than the fore arms." 

IMPARTIAL JUSTICE, or 
the dishonest servant paid as 
knaves ought always to be paid. 

" While I was visiting this 
nobleman, 5 * (an Italian mar- 
quis) says a modern writer, "he 
gave an entertainment to the 
neighbouring gentry; part of 
the company had already ar- 
rived, when an upper servant 
came into the room evidently- 
embarrassed to inform his lord- 
ship, that a fisherman had 
brought the finest fish he had 
ever seen, but asked a very ex- 
traordinary price. 

" Give him whatever he 
asks," replied the marquis, anx- 
ious to shew his respect for the 
company who were to dine with 
him. 

" It is not money, my lord, 
that he demands; the fellow- 
swears that he will not part with 
his fish, till he has received a 
hundred strokes on his bare 
shoulders." 

This singular demand excit- 
ing general curiosity; the whole 
party 



110 



ITINERANT PASTRY COOK. 



party accompanied the marquis 
into the court yard to see this 
unaccountable fisherman. 

(e Is it true what I hear," 
said the marquis, addressing him, 
4i that you will not sell your 
fish, unless you receive the stra- 
pado on your back ?" 

" I will not abate a single 
stroke of the hundred, my lord/' 

" It is the largest of the kind 
I ever saw," said the marquis 
and every person present ; " if 
the man insists on it, he must be 
humoured. " 

The fish was delivered without 
delay to the cook ; the fisher- 
man took off his jacket, and the 
groom, who was to pay him, 
rolled his shirt up to his neck. 

The operation commenced, 
and when fifty strokes had been 
administered, the fisherman 
cried, " Hold 1 I have received 
my share." 

" Your share!" said the mar- 
quis, " what do you mean ?" 

" You must know, my lord, 
I have a partner ; it is the porter 
at the outer gate of your palace ; 
he would not permit me to enter, 
unless I would promise to give 
him half of whatever I got for 
mv fish." 

" O ho!" exclaimed the mar- 
quis, comprehending at once 
the humour and just resentments 
of the poor man, " he shall 
certainly be paid." 



The porter was sent for, strip- 
ped, tied up, and severely flogged; 
the fisherman liberally paid, and 
the marquis, dinner being by 
this time ready, sat down with 
his guests to a sumptuous and 
laughable repast. 

ITINERANT PASTRY 
COOK.— One of those dam- 
ned good-natured friends, which 
few men are without, was sooth- 
ing the editor with complaints 
and expostulations, because he 
persisted in publishing what 
most people could elsewhere 
read; a byestander, not a friend, 
related a Parisian anecdote. 

A dealer in pastry on the 
Pont Neuf, whose stock and 
shop were both portable, was 
observed to sell his puffs smaller 
and much dearer than other 
people; to the remonstrances of 
a surly customer he made the 
following reply : — 

"My tartlets are undoubt- 
edly small, and I confess that I 
ask a good price, but my wife 
fancies she has a knack at making 
paste lighter, and of communi- 
cating to her pates a poignancy, 
which our rivals cannot equal." 

The complainer continued to 
grumble and to eat, and was ob- 
served regularly to visit the same 
dealer. 

JUSTUM 



JUSTUM ET TENACEM. 



Ill 



JUSTUM ET TENACEM, 
an ode of Horace begin- 
ning with those words, and imi- 
tated in the following stanzas 
by a modern poet : — 

The man, who, resolute and 

just, 
Firm to his principles and trust, 
Nor hopes nor fears can bind,' 
No passions his designs controul, 
Not love, that tyfant of the soul, 
Can shake his steady mind. 

Not parties for revenge engag'd, 
Nor threat'nings of a court en- 

rag'd, 
Nor storms where fleets despair; 
Not thunder pointed at his head,^- 
The shatter' d world may strike 

him dead, 
Nor touch his soul with fear. 

From this the Grecian glory 
rose, 

By this the Romans~ aw'd their 
foes, 

Of this their poets sing; 

These were the paths their he- 
roes trod, 

These acts made Hercules a 

And great Nassau a king. 

Firm on the rolling deck he 

stood, 
Unmov'd beheld the raging flood 
With furious blasts combine ; 
" Virtue,' ' heery'd, "will make 

its way, 
" Thunder and storm can but 

delay, 
Not alter our design," 



Yes, Britons, yes, with ardent 

zeal, 
1 come domestic wounds to healj 
And bigot chains unbind; 
The tools of arbitrary sway 
Shall soon like locusts scout 

away 
Before the western wind. 

Law shall again its reign resume, 
Religion clear'd from clouds of 

Rome, 
With brighter rays advance; 
The British flag shall rule the 

deep, 
And Britain's sons arouz'd from 

sleep, 
Strike terror into France. 

But know, these promises are 
given, 

These great rewards all gracious 
Heaven 

Does on these terms decree; 

That, strictly punishing mis- 
deeds, 

You let mens 9 consciences <mi 
creeds 

Rest absolutely free. 

Let no false politicks confine, 
In narrow bounds, your vast 

design 
To make mankind unite; 
Nor think it a sufficient cause, 
To punish men by penal laws 
For not believing right. 

Rome, whose blind rage destroys 
> mankind, 
Let bloody Rome compassion 

find, 
Who ne'er compassion knew ; 

Bv 



lis 



JUVENILE ABILITIES. 



By nobler actions her's condemn ; 
For what in others you contemn 
Can ne'er be right in you. 

This spirited production is 
censured by a modern critic as 
frigid and flimsy; yet Walsh, 
the author of it> was the 
cotemporary and friend of Pope, 
who frequently acknowledged 
the advantages he derived from 
his advice, which related prin- 
cipally to correctness, a particu- 
lar in which Dryden and all his 
predecessors had been grossly 
deficient. 

The composition which forms 
the subject of our present arti- 
cle, cannot either with truth or 
justice be called frigid and 
fiimsy\ the only cause to be as- 
signed for this unjust sentence of 
condemnation, passed by a man, 
on other points not deficient in 
acuteness, is, that he suffered 
his principles as a tory, to warp 
his impartiality as a critic. 

Walsh was a staunch, honest, 
and consistent whig, who valued 
his own opinions, but did not 
wish to controul the opinion of 
others; he was not without a 
portion of the wholesome and 
at that period the necessary Pro- 
testant prejudices against the" 
Catholic faith, and when we 
recollect what the supporters of 
popery had done, and still medi- 
tated doing, can we blame or be 
surprized at such antipathies, 



or at modern writers endeavour- 
ing to keep mens* attention 
awake on the subject ? 

It may also be recorded among 
the singularities of literary pa- 
tronage, that Walsh with such 
tendencies and such principles 
should be the early friend and 
adviser of one, who afterwards 
confessed himself a submissive 
and humble son of the Roman 
church ; and further, that a 
man, doomed in future times 
to reach the highest degree 
of poetical excellence, should 
have been instructed and told 
that he could write by a minor 
poet. 

The present times have not 
been without similar peculiari- 
ties; David Mallet was the first. 
patron of Gibbon the historian ; 
Dr. Johnson was amused and 
afterwards neglected by Lord 
Chesterfield ; and the editor of a 
certain collection was more than 
once advised to take orders by 
a worthy prelate not long since 
deceased ; advice from a primate 
always understood to mean more 
than is expressed. 

JUVENILE ABILITIES.— 
Public attention has been 
occasionally raised by the pre- 
mature exertions of puerile in- 
tellect, which in some instances 
have outstripped veterans in 
professional pursuits, though 
qualified 



KELLY, EDWARD. 



313 



qualified by long study, and im- 
proved by the experience of 
many years. 

The writer of the present ar- 
ticle was surpized, a few months 
since, by the ready and appa- 
rently the unpremeditated reply 
of a child, so young, that he 
hesitated in asking him to open 
a gate, being himself unable to 
dismount without assistance in 
consequence of a severe lum- 
bago. 

The business was however 
performed with sufficient dex- 
terity, and as the old mare' 
gently paced on, her rider be- 
stowed the common and cheap 
acknowledgement of, " that's 
a good child," unaccompanied 
by any pecuniary compen- 
sation. 

" If I am a good child" re- 
plied the infant wit without 
hesitation, and probably irri- 
tated by .unrequited trouble of- 
ten repeated, " why don't you 
give me a halfpenny V s 

The editor, immediately pul- 
ling in, gave the petitioner or 
rather the remonstrant a little 
more than the sum mentioned : 
this answer had the additional 
recommendation of being wholly 
free from pertness or rudeness 
in manner and in tone of voice. 

In this instance the reply was 
rather more apt, than one raid 
to have been made on a similar 

VOL. IV. 



application from a crowned head, 
and recorded, if I mistake not, 
in the famous collection or Mr. 
Joseph Miller, deceased, of fa* 
cetious memory. 

<k Be so good as to open the 
gate for me," said the king, 
who in a fox chace had ridden 
faster than his attendants. 

" God bless your majesty, I 
am not worthy of tnat high ho- 
nour; but Mr. Holt, ajustice of 
peace, lives little more than a 
mile and a half off; I will run 
for him directly, and he will 
open it for your majesty in a 
minute." 

KELLY, EDWARD, an 
inhabitant of the city of 
Worcester in the year 1555, 
whose nativity being calculated, 
it appeared that he was born to 
be a wit and a man of extraordi- 
nary gifts; those more valuable 
qualities, prudence and common 
sense, he did not possess, and 
frequently affected to despise: 
whether they would have ren- 
dered his life more happy and 
more honourable to himself, 
or more useful to others, my 
readers will soon determine. 

Eccentric and impatient of 
controul he quitted Oxford ab- 
ruptly, having been sent to that 
university for the purpose of 
finishing his education ; be- 
coming a rambler^ he wandered 
q only 



J 14 



KELLY/ EDWARD. 



into Lancashire, where so many 
men have been bewitched. 

At Lowcliurch near Walton 
in that county, if any credit, is 
due to Weever, the credulous 
compiler of the funeral monu- 
ments, Kelly raised a poor man 
from the dead, and by virtue of 
magic incantations, obliged him 
to answer such questions as the 
supernatural operator proposed. 

Although in the present times 
such an assertion will be re- 
ceived with hesitation, the ma- 
gistrates of that district, in 
which this and other foul mat- 
ters.had been transacted, appear 
to have given it credit; exas- 
perated by the strange conduct 
of this new-comer, whom they 
considered as a disturber of the 
public peace, they took the of- 
fender into custody, and cruelly 
Tis well as illegally cut off both 
his ears. 

-This severe treatment deter- 
ring him from further practising 
his unlawful arts, he then stu- 
died the chymical transmutation 
of metals, and is said to have 
made wonderful discoveries, 
if not to have perjectly mastered 
the philosopher's stone. 
- Like other proficients in other 
studies, not be-ng properly coun- 
tenanced in his own country, he 
travelled into foreign parts, and 
having received an invitation 
from a -Polish prince, resided 



several years at Cracow, c » where 
he made projection, and was 
profuse in presents and. modes 
of life, far beyond the income of 
a private man, or the bounty of 
a prince." 

In consequence of frequent 
and strong solicitations, he re- 
moved to Vienna, and to prove 
beyond a doubt the unerring 
nature of his operations, a round 
piece was cut out of a warmings 
pan, made of the customary 
metal ; this he changed into 
pure gold, and with the warming 
pan sent to his own lawful so- 
vereign Queen Elizabeth, that 
by fitting the piece with the 
place the real truth of his pro~ 
jection might appear. 

This effort of vanity, fraud, or 
resentment, to shew how useful 
a man had been neglected, was 
not lost on the virgin queen; 
her majesty, now fully aware of 
the worth of such a subject, sent 
privately for hiin ; but the em- 
peror Rodolph, the second of 
that name, who highly esteemed 
him, and had already conferred 
on him the honor of knight- 
hood, suspecting the meditated 
flight, and to prove his unwil- 
lingness to lose him, shut him 
up closely in a strong castle 
with cruel kindness. 

From this fortress- Kelly at- 
tempted to escape, by means of 
tying his ' sheets together and 
letting 



KYTE, SIR WILLIAM. 



115 



letting himself down from a 
lofty window; one of the knots 
on which K e depended, slipping, 
,the unlucky projector fell with 
violence to the ground, and re- 
ceiving many and great bruises 
fied shortly after. 

When we recollect the pow- 
ers ar..i mysterious qualifications 
of K< : lv, it seems strange that 
he could not convey himself 
out of prison in a S'fer and 
more dexterous wav ; he who 
could raise the dead from their 
graves, and turn a warming pan 
to gold, might, surely by art, 
magic, or chyme, have converted 
holts, bars, locks, and chains, 
into that precious metal, and 
thus have been furnished with 
ample means of purchasing the 
connivance of his keepers. 

Thus, if we may believe his 
biographer, thus lived and thus 
died Edward Kelly: one of his 
associates, a famous conjurer in 
his.dav, Dr. D^e, had another 
project, not to change metals, 
but fluids into gold ; m this plan 
the doctor and Kdiy, before he 
went beyond sea, succeeded to 
their wish. 

They persuaded, their deluded 
followers that they had found a 
large quantity of a precious 
elixir, in a vault, among the ruins 
of Glastonbury abbey : of this 
f* they made a pretty penny." 

It is sometimes fortunate for 



mankind that rogues do not long 
agree ; the point on which Dee 
and Kellv disputed was curious; 
Dee asserted, that the spirits 
with which he conversed were 
angelic, this position Kelly 
stoutly denied, insisting, ie that 
the whole of their proceedings 
were mere illusions of the devil." 
The subject of this article was 
author of a curious and scarce 
book, " De Lapide Philosopho- 
rum. Hamburgh, 8vo. lt]G." 
Ktily is also noticed in a work 
published by Meric Causabon, 
called " A true and faithful 
relation of what passed between 
Dr. Dee and certain Spirits. 
London, 1659. 

KYTE, SIR WILLIAM, a 
baronet of large property 
and respectable family in the 
county of Warwick. 

At the customary age he mar- 
ried an amiable woman of his own 
years and rank, had several beau- 
tiful children, and lived apparent- 
ly happy. 

But in an ill starred or an im- 
prudent moment, he offered him- 
self at a contested election to re- 
present the borough of Warwick. 

This party -struggle involved 
him in pxpences which consider- 
ablv injured his fortune, and led - 
to events which ultimately over- 
whelmed him in irreparable ca- 
lamity, ruin., and disgrace. 
a 2 During 



115 



KYTE, SIR WILLTAM. 



Daring the election Sir Wil- 
li a m had received important help 
from the zeal and activity of 
J' n-t, an inn -keeper of War- 
wick ; at the close of the p< II, 
after paying his bill, the baronet 
tha ik< d birr*, a^kiug at the same 
time, if there was any thing in 
which be could serve him. 

The freeman of Warwick re- 
plied, that lie had a house full of 
daughters unprovided for, and if 
lady Kvte, in her own family, or 
among the ladies of her acquaint- 
ance, could get three or four of 
them genteel easy places, as their 
niomer and the mantua-maker 
had s.oilt them for hard work, 
it wouid be easing him of a heavy 
burthen. 

Lady FCyte, who had cmght 
the electioneering spirit of her 
husband and ieltobligcd to Jones, 
agreed to take the eldest daughter, 
Molly, as her own maid ; she 
was a tall, well-formed girl, with 
eyes not sa'e to look at, and a 
fine complexion, but appeared 
innocent and modest. 

Sir William, at first, took little 
notice of his new domestic, and 
affected to speak against her; 
but in a few years the servants 
remarked that Molly Jones was 
too great a favorite with her 
master, and the 1111 welcome intel- 
ligence at length reached the un- 
happy wife, whose passion? get- 
ting the better of her discretion, 



she attacked her unfa'thfnl hus- 
band in the bitterest, language of 
virulent reproach and abuse. 

HadI.adtKyte moderated 
her resentments, till the 
fondness for the favorite 
abated, which for her own 
sake, and that of her chjl~ 
dkkn, she ought to have 
done, the wanderer might 
have been rfclaimed, and a 
large portion of evil and 
regret might havebeen pre- 
VENTED. 

Unfortunatelv for all parties, 
the injured wife observed no 
bounds of decency or moderation 
in her resentments, grossly re- 
viling Sir William daily and 
hourlv, in bed and at b >ard, be- 
fore his servants, and in the pre- 
sence of all companies. 

Though criminal and incx* 
disable, perceiving that dom; siiq 
happiness was destroyed, he re- 
solved to separate, and seek a 
quiet home. 

Having a large farm-house on 
the side of the Cotswold hills, he 
retired to it with Molly and his 
two eldest sons ; the situation 
was fine, nature having been 
lavish of wood, water, and hang- 
ing hills, with a picturesque pros- 
pect of the delightful vale of 
Evesham : bnt what are these, 
or indeed any gifts of fortune 
without domestic peace ? 

To shew his fondness for the 
favorite, 



KYTE, SIR WILLIAM. 



117 



favorite, he took down the old 
house and built a handsome 
mansion, with extensive pleasure- 
grounds and garden ; betore it 
was completed, two expensive 
side fronts wete added, Incuse 
Molly, who was a wit as well as 
a beauty, happened to sav — 
" IVhat is a Kite without wings.!?* 
Tins building, which cost mote 
than ten thousand pounds, ad- 
ded to the baronet's pecuniary 
embarrassments and Ins do- 
mestic indiscretion, threw him 
occasionally into melancholy and 
dejection, tor uhich he had re- 
course to the bottle, deep play, 
and a continual round of male 
visitors. 

But the time approached when 
Molly, in htr turn, was to be 
supplanted. 

There had been taken into the 
house, to assist in the dairy, a 
fresh coloured country girl, whose 
cheeks, bosom, and hands were 
described by one of Sir William's 
drinking companions, as hard as 
the milking- stool on which she 
sat. 

With no other attractions, Sir 
William, at the age or fifty- two, 
became enamoured of a girl of 
nineteen; Molly soon observed 
the growing passion, and either 
from resentment, contempt, or a 
dread of ill usage, immediately 
quitted the house. 

Sir William thus seemed left 



in the undisturbed possession of 
his humble flame, but soon found 
the degrading and delusive nature 
of indulging vicious passions ; he 
f 'It. also the absence of Molly, 
who, excepting her disgrace in 
yielding to the licentious solicita- 
tions of her master, had many 
good qualities and useful domes- 
tic qualifications. 

When his appetite for coarse 
vulgarity was satiated, he could 
not hdp making a comparison 
between the wife, and even the 
misti ess he had deserted, and the 
present companion he had chosen ; 
these reflections cooled his ardor, 
neglect and disagreement fol- 
lowed, and the ruddv miik-maid 
who thought herself meat fur 
her master and on a perfect equa- 
lity, disgusted at his treatment 
or terrified by the fuiy of his 
looks and his frantic conduct, 
decamped in the night. 

Thus left as it were alone in 
the magnificent but fatal man- 
sion he had reared, his flis of 
melancholy returned with aug- 
mented depressions; despair, 
death, and hell haunted his ima- 
gination ; short intervals of relief 
were procured by intoxication ; 
his creditors were urgent, and at 
length, in a moment of hopeless 
perplexity, considering himself 
as hateful to and deserted by 
God and man, and with the hor- 
rorsof eternal punishmentblazing 
in 



118 



LABIENUS, TITUS. 



in his imagination and crowding 
his heart, he set fiie to the house, 
and was himself, with all it con- 
tained burnt to ashes. 

Such were the deplorable effects 
of licentiousness and vice — 
Im probe cupidn, quid non mor- 
talia peitnra cngis! fuisti ante 
Helfuam belli Uterrima causa. 

Many years after this check- 
ing catastrophe, Molly Jones 
was recognized bv one, who had 
known her in her days of crimi- 
nal elevation on the Coteswold 
hills; she was r as the 

mistress of a little school tor chil- 
dren at Camuden, a market 
town in an adjoining county. 

Having by her correct conduct 
and mild manners in some mea- 
sure atoned tor her former crimes, 
she was encouraged, pitied, and 
respected by all the neighbours ; 
her last days were spent in pious 
and useful occupation ; relying 
on the intercession of a redeem- 
ing Saviour, and proving the 
sincere emcacv of her repent- 
ance bv a meliorated life, she 
died in the calm comfort of hope. 

LABIENUS, TITUS, a na- 
tive of Cingulum, or as it 

is now called. Gingulp, in the 

march of Ancona, who 
as one of the lieutenants under 
Julius Caesar in his conquest 
of G 

In this post he deserved and 



secured the confidence of that 
consummate general, having con- 
tributed essentially to his splen- 
did victories ; but the moment he 
perceived, that Caspar aimed at 
supreme power and disobeyed 
the orders , of the senate, he 
avowed his submission to the 
Lit u ted authorities of the re- 
public, and retired ai the mo- 
meat the dictator's army tra- 
versed the Rubicon, which he 
considered as the signal of re- 
volt. 

The Roman commander felt 
considerable regret at the 
of so useful and honest a man, 
and to shew the sense he enter- 
tained of his worth, sent his 
equipage, baggage, and ai 
of pav, to Labienus, accompa- 
nied" with a letter, in which he 
acknowledged his merits, and 
' lamented the fatal necessity 
which separated them. 

The republican was received 
with open arms by Pompev 
his friends, and was warmly 
praised bv Cicero ; yet in pro- 
secuting Rabirius, whom the 
Roman orator defended in an 
ited oration, part of which 
is still extant, he became an ob- 
ject of the lawyer's invective. 

Rabirius, many years before, 
in one of those sti .veen 

the Patricians and PLebc 
which perpetua'i : re- 

publican Rome, had assisted the 
ser 



LABIENUS, TITUS. 



119 



senate and consuls, and killed 
Satuminus, a tribune of the 
people, who with a collection of 
seditious malcontents had taken 
possession of the capital. 

Rabirius was tried before two 
commissioners from the senate 
and found guilty of the crime, 
but appealed to a general assem- 
bly of the people. 

It was on this occasion that 
the oration of Cicero for Rabi- 
rius, of which a part only re- 
mains, was spoken ; but in spite 
of all his efforts, Labienus was 
on the point of again succeeding 
against Rabirius, when Quintus 
Metellus Celer, who presided at 
the meeting, assuming a real 
or- pretended power, and pro- 
bably seeing there was no other 
method of saving Rabirius, or- 
dered the standard of the republic, 
which Was always displayed on 
such occasions, to be immedi- 
ately lowered, and stopped fur- 
ther proceedings by declaring the 
assembly dissolved. 

Labienus and the enemies of 
the accused man, aware of the 
danger of agitating party ques- 
tions, and probably convinced 
that the person slain was a rebel- 
lious insurgent, relaxed their zeal, 
the question was permitted to 
rest, and Rabirius ultimately 
escaped. 

There was nothing peculiarly 
prominent or highly interesting 
in the conduct of Labienus- and 



in my opinion, tried on the un- 
erring touchstone of expediency, 
he did wrong to throw himself 
at once into the arms of the 
enemies of his old commander 
and associate; but he appears 

TO HAVE MEANT WELL, a most 

important feature in any charac- 
ter, and fully sufficient to hide 
or excuse a multitude of faults. 

Selfishness appears to have 
been no part of his character; 
he was evidently actuated by 
public spirit, and glowed with -* 
patriotic zeal as the citizen of a 
democratic republic, which he 
considered as the acme of poli- 
tical perfection, the established 
constitution of his country. 

Stimulated by this honest 
impulse, and feeling powerfully 
such convictions, he tore him- 
self from a commander to whom 
he was attached by the double 
ties of interest and gratitude, 
under whose auspices he had 
attained wealth and renown 
and planted the Roman eagle on 
the banks of the Rhine. 

In the high tide of fortune, 
fame, and preferment, he joined 
a sinking party, became an ex- 
ile from that country whose bat- 
tles he had been fighting, and 
joining Pompey in Spain was 
slain in an engagement on a 
spot now occupied by the city 
of Ossuna in the province of 
Andalusia. 

LAND- 



120 



LANDSCAPE GARDENER. 



LANDSCAPE GARDEN- 
ER, a term given to or 
assumed by a class of surveyors, 
who undertake to lay out that 
portion of ground, — which more 
immediately surrounds a modern 
mansion house. 

This subject has produced a 
paper war between certain con- 
noisseurs in picturesque scene- 
ry and professional improvers. 

The amateurs complain, that 
in making a place, rough ground 
and surfaces, irregularly but of- 
ten exquisitely broken by acci- 
dental circumstances or peculi- 
arity of situation, are sacrificed 
ic by walk makers, shrub plant- 
ers, turf cleaners, and rural per- 
fumers ; to trim spruceness, 
shaved lawns, serpentine paths, 
and the unvaried tameness of 
unceasing undulation-." 

These advocates for the pictu- 
resque further alledge, that in 
arguing, and frequently in work- 
ing, the persons they describe 
apply the theory of sight to the 
touch, and mistake perception 
for sensation ; for that in forests 
and other spots, where nature is 
unspoiled by art, many objects 
may be and are externally un- 
equal, coarse, and shaggy to the 
finger, which, when connected 
and blended with appropriate 
scenery, and mellowed by the 
mossy hand of time, communi- 
cate to a spectator's eye soft and 
delightful sensations. 



The difference between sen- 
sation and perception, insisted 
on by one of the parties in this 
dispute, has been doubted by a 
learned critic, and technically 
investigated by a practical ana- 
tomist. 

The last of these gentlemen 
thinks them both the same, be r 
cause the pupil of the eye is evi- 
dently contracted or relaxed by 
muscular fibres, which like other 
muscles producing involuntary 
motion, are thrown into action, 
by the irritation of light and 
shade acting on the retina, so 
that in fact, intelligence con- 
veyed to the mind by the eye, 
is as much semation as the ef- 
fect of a thorn applied to the 
finger. 

But whatever the mistakes, or 
on whatever side the merits of the 
question preponderate, the pub- 
lic has been a considerable gain- 
er by this animated and well 
conducted controversy; for in 
justice to the disputants it ought 
to be observed, that in the en- 
thusiasm of a favorite pursuit, 
they have not forgot they were 
gentlemen. 

I take this opportunity, having 
no other, of thanking Mr. Rep- 
ton, Mr. Uvedale Price, and 
Mr. Knight, for the pleasure 
and instruction I have received. 

To the last of these writers 

we are indebted for " The 

Landscape," a poem, at once 

pleasing 



LANDSCAPE GARDENER. 



121 



pleasing and scientific, creditable 
to the taste of its author, and 
enriched with notes which may 
be perused with advantage by 
the painter, the improver, the 
critic, the philosopher, and poli- 
tician. 

I can plead no other apology 
for stealing from it, than a wish 
to communicate to my readers, 
the fame pleasure I received in 
perusing it myself. „ 

fC - Let the approach and 

entrance to your place, 

Display no glitter, and affect no 
grace; 

But still tu careless easy curves 
proceed 

Through the rough thicket or 
the flow'ry mead ; 

'Till bursting from some deep 
embow'ring shade, 

Some narrow valley or some 
opening glade, 

Well mixed and blended in pro- 
portion due, 

The stately mansion rises into 
view. 

But see alas, a vain fantastic 

band, 
With charts, pedometors, and 

rules in hand, 
Advance triumphant, and alike 

lay waste, 
The forms of nature and the 

works of taste ; 

VOL. IV, 



To improve, adorn, and polish, 
they profess. 

But shave the goddess whom 
they come to dress. 

They level all; — 

The pollard oak with ivy over- 
grown, 

The root fantastic, and the 
mossy stone ; 

The ascent abrupt, the dell, the 
shaggy mound, 

All, all they smooth to one un- 
varied round: 

Trimm'd to the brink, our 
brooks are taught to flow, 

While clumps and cradles dot 
the vale below; 

Each secret haunt and deep re- 
cess display'd, 

And intricacy banish'd from 
each shade. 

Hence, hence ye haggard fiends, 

however call'd, 
Ye meagre genii of the bare and 

bald; 

— ye rural nymphs oppose, 

Nature's and art's confederated 

foes ; 
The axe and hook that would 

such scenes deform, 
Dash from their hands ; • 

Teach silly man his labor to 

employ, 
To form and decorate, but not 

destroy 
a To 



122 



LANDSCAPE GARDENER. 



To break, not level the slow 

rising ground, 
And guard, not cut the fern 

that shades the ground. 

Paternal shades ! to me for ever 
dear, 

May no improvers ever visit 
here : 

Protected long from sacrilegious 
waste, 

From false refinement, and pre- 
tended taste: 

From trim, spruce despots, keep 
my villa free ; 

Nature for me the treillage 
shall spread, 

And the wild woodbine dangle 
o'er my head ; 

Entangled thickets and imper- 
vious woods, 

Shall hang reflected o'er my 
murm'ring floods. 

Still uncorrupted, still near my 
demesne, 

May antient forests hold their 
savage reign; 

The brook high bank'd, the 
rock, the spreading tree, 

Proclaim the seat of sylvan 
liberty : 

From these how different the 
poor formal lump 

By moderns planted, which they 
call a clump ; 

Or the dull shrubbery's insipid 
scene, 

A tawdry fringe encircling va- 
pid green; 



Prim gravel walks, through 
which we winding go, 

In endless serpentines that no- 
thing shew ; 

Till tir'd, I ask, why this eternal 
round P 

And the pert gard'ner says, 'tis 
pleasure ground ; 

This pleasure ground ! 



O waft me hence to some neg- 
lected vale, 
Where I unbroil'd may court 

the western gale ; 
And 'midst the shades which 

native thickets shed, 
Hide from the noon-tide beam 

my aching head ; 
For tho' in British woods no 

myrtles blow, 
Nor rip'ning. citrons in our i 

forests glow ; 
Nor clust'ring vines extend their 

long festoon, 

Nor spicy odors from our 

mountains breathe 
Their rich perfume o'er fertile 

plains beneath : 
Woodbine and eglantine our 

copses grace,. 

Hollies and thorns o'erhang and 
deck our steeps, 

And o'er our banks the clust'- 
ring ivy creeps. 

Mr. Knight proceeds with 
considerable spirit, but not with- 
out occasionally overcharging 

his 



LANDSCAPE GARDENER. 



123 



his picture, a licence enjoy'd for 
time immemorial, by poets, 
orators, and painters, he proceeds 
to censure the common method 
of surrounding parks and coun- 
try seats with what is called A 
belt, a practice, it is true, not 
always absolutely necessary, but 
frequently rendered so by cir- 
cumstance and situation; his 
opinion is also against planting 
the sides and summits of lofty 
hills with trees; on this point 
many have thought differently. 

should, rough with broken 

crags, 
Some distant mountain over all 

arise, 
And mix its azure colours with 

the skies; 
Never attempt, presumptuous, 

to o'erspread 
With starv'd plantations, its 

bleak, barren head. 

The following lines must have 
been written by a man of 
taste as well as science : — 

Harsh and cold, the builder's 
work appears, 

'Till soften'd down by long re- 
volving years; 

'Till time and weather have'con- 
jointly spread, 

Their mould'ring hues and mos- 
ses o'er his head. 

Blefs'd is the man in whose se- 
questered glade 

Some ancient abbey's walls dif- 
fuse their shade ; 



With mould'ring windows pier- 
ced, and turrets crown'd, 

And pinnacles with clinging ivy 
bound. 

Bless'd too is he, who 'midst 
his tufted trees, 

Some ruin'd castle's lofty towers 
sees, 

Imbosom'd high upon the 
mountain's brow : 

Nor yet unenvied, to whose hum- 
bler lot 

Falls the retired and antiquated 
cot; 

Its roof with weeds and mosses 
cover'd o'er, 

And honey - suckles climbing 
round the door. 

Still happier he, if conscious of 
his prize, 

Who sees some temple's broken 
columns rise; 

Where ev'ry beauty of correct 
design, 

And varied elegance of art com- 
bine 

With nature's softest tints, ma- 
tur'd by time, 

And the warm influence of a 
genial clime. 

As collaterally connected with 
his subject, Mr. Knight gene- 
rously and in some respects 
justly attempts to rescue the 
Huns, the Goths, and the Van- 
dals, from a charge, for ages 
brought against them, that of 
being the only destroyers and 
defacers of the productions of 
human art; yet in those in- 
R 2 stances 



124 



LANDSCAPE GARDENER. 



stances where the materials were 
formed of the precious metals, 
the accusation seems to have 
been correct; but Mr. Knight 
must not be interrupted. 

Much injured Vandals and long 

slander'd Huns ! 
How are you wronged by your 

too thankless sons; 
Of others actions you sustain the 

blame, 

For fame and plunder your 
bold myriads fought, 

Nor deign'd on art to cast one 
transient thought; 

They, with cold contempt »• 

The works of Glycon and Apel- 
les view'd 

Merely as blocks of stone, or 
planks of wood. 

But gloomy bigotry, with pry- 
ing eye 

Saw lurking fiends in every 
figure lie; 

Books blaz'd in piles, and sta- 
tues shiv'ring fell, 

Such was the language of a 
warm advocate for picturesque 
scenery; but landscape garden- 
ing was not without an able de- 
fender, Mr. Repton, who ap- 
pears to unite practical precision 
with technical ingenuity. 

Without rhyme, but with a 
considerable portion of reason, 
he enters a strong protest 



" against converting this beauti- 
ful kingdom into a huge forest, 
calls the theory of his opponents, 
a system of improving by neg- 
lect and accident, and insists 
that propriety and convenience 
are not less objects of taste than 
picturesque effect; he in some 
measure agrees with his oppo- 
nents on belts and clump*, but 
adds, that the first are often highly 
useful in concealing dead fences 
and other disagreeable objects, 
and the latter absolutely neces^ 
sary as nurseries for single trees, 
which planted single seldom 
flourish. 

In the present, as in many 
other instances, art and science 
have received considerable as- 
sistance, and many new lights 
from the collision of controver- 
sy ; in places made by Mr, Rep- 
ton, he has evidently recollected 
some of the hints of his antago- 
nists; neither have Mr. Price 
and Mr. Knight been backward 
in acknowledging the eminent 
professional qualifications of 
Mr. Repton, even on points to 
which they once thought him not 
sufficiently attentive. 

In a word, were the editor of 
this collection to chuse a place 
for his residence, he would with- 
out a moments hesitation, fix on 
a spot which had shaied the su- 
perintendance of Mr. Repton, as 
evidently uniting convenience, 
comfort, 



LIEBERKHUN. 



125 



comfort, and well disposed de- 
coration. 

For a ride, a drive, or a walk; 
for solitary wandering or social 
excursion, he would undoubt- 
edly prefer wilder and more pic- 
turesque scenes, such as Mr. 
Price imagines, and I am told 
actually possesses, and such as 
Mr. Knight has described. 

LIBERTY OF PROPHE- 
CYING, a dissertation so 
entitled, in the folio edition of 
Bishop Taylor's Polemical Dis- 
courses. 

A passage from this work has 
been produced by a modern 
writer, as the evident but unac- 
knowledged source of Dr. Frank- 
lin's pleasing scriptural tale of 
Abraham and the Angel; pro- 
duced by the shrewd American 
as an argument in favor of tole- 
ration. 

" I conclude" says the learned 
prelate, '* with a story which 
occurs in one of the Rabbi's 
books. 

" When Abraham sat at the 
door of his tent, he 'spied a stran- 
ger passing on his way, leaning 
on his staff, worn down with old 
age, and weary with travelling; 
he received him kindly, washed 
his feet, and provided a supper 
for him. 

" But observing that the old 
man proceeded to eat without 



thanksgiving or praying for a 
blessing of the Almighty, on that 
which was laid before him, he 
demanded of him why he did not 
worship the God of Heaven ? 

t( I adore fire only, and ac- 
knowledge no other God," re- 
plied the stranger. At these 
words Abraham's anger was 
kindled, he rose from his seat 
and thrust the old man out of 
his tent ; thus exposing him to 
danger, hunger, and cold. 

Then God called umo Abra- 
ham, saying, <i Where is the 
stranger who entered thy tent?" 
** I thrust him away because he 
did not worship thee," answer- 
ed the Patriarch, f 1 1 have 

SUFFERED HIM THESE HUN- 
DRED YEARS, ALTHOUGH HE 
DISHONORED ME, AND COULD'ST 
NOT THOU ENDURE HIM ONE 
NIGHT." 

LIEBERKUHN, a modern 
anatomist, the performer 
and relater of certain ingenious 
but cruel experiments on ani- 
mals. 

I have heard him violently- 
censured and accused of being 
inhuman, without having the 
excuse of an adequate object in 
view; yet from many of his ob- 
noxious operations important 
facts have been established. 

It is by no means certain that 
he was void of feeling, the ar- 
dent 



126 



LILBOURNE, JOHN: 



dent curiosity of his researches 
probably absorbed every other 
sensation; if however he was 
deficient in tenderness and hu- 
manity, it may in a great mea- 
sure have originated from the 
iron texture of his nerves, which 
were not susceptible of light and 
delicate impressions. 

This mode of accounting for 
an obdurate disposition, is col- 
laterally corroborated by the un- 
common strength of his eye- 
sight, which could clearly dis- 
tinguish, and without glasses, 
distant objects, for viewing 
which, most men are under the 
necessity of using telescopes and 
magnifiers. 

The optic nerves and visual 
organs of Lieberkuhn are said 
to have been so strong and 
clear, that he was able to see the 
satellites of the planet Jupiter, 
with his naked eye unassisted. 

Astronomers and opticians 
are best able to decide if what I 
relate is possible. 

LILBOURNE, JOHN, born 
at Thickley-Panchardon, 
in the county of Durham, and 
originally apprenticed to a Lon- 
don packer; but disliking this 
occupation, and being of quick 
parts, he was placed under Wil- 
liam Prynne, a barrister of Lin- 
coln's Inn, and the author of 
fUstrio-Mastix, a libel, for 



which he was pillored and lost 
both his ears ; although the 
passage in which the writer was 
supposed to have censured the 
queen's acting, was written 
several months before Henrietta 
appeared on her private theatre. 

Lilbourne having imbibed the 
principles, and imitated the au- 
dacity of his master, was com- 
mitted to the Fleet prison, and 
whipped at the cart's tail from 
that place of confinement to 
Westminster hall, loudly railing 
as he passed along, at various, 
real, or pretended grievances in 
church and state. 

After the king's death, and 
when the government put on a 
republican form, 'till it verged 
under Cromwell to an absolute 
monarchy, Lilbourne did not 
abate in activity or virulence. 

He was a copious writer, and 
with all his faults appears to 
have been an honest republican, 
but like other persons of that 
description, forgot that how- 
ever excellent in many respects 
that form of Government may 
be, man as he is does not furnish 
materials sufficiently pure to en- 
sure its continuance, or conduct 
it with integrity. 

He found when the constitu- 
tion was overthrown, that law 
and liberty perished with it, 
that the lords and commons as 
then constituted, were little bet- 
ter 



LOVER. 



1&7 



ter than instruments of tyranny 
in the hands of the protector, 
a canting impostor, who turned 
the fanatic zeal of the sectaries, 
and the well meant opposition 
of the patriots, into a political 
engine for destroying their sove- 
reign and succeeding to his 
throne. 

The unaccommodating ho- 
nesty of Lilbourne, excited envy 
and indignation in the knaves 
and hypocrites by whom he was 
surrounded ; he suffered various 
and long imprisonments, and at 
the restoration of King Charles 
the second, being dissatisfied 
that some provision was not 
made for clearly and accurately 
defining the boundaries of pri- 
vilegeand prerogative, he incur- 
red further penalties. 

As old age came on, finding 
or feeling the vanity of expect- 
ing perfection in any system 
formed or administered by man, 
the ardor of his temperament 
was somewhat cooled, and fal- 
ling into acquaintance with cer- 
tain quakers, he frequented their 
meetings, hut on one occasion 
gave offence, ly cautioning them 
against mistaking the flights of 
fancy, and the swellings of pas- 
sion and pride for divine inspi-' 
ration. 

This unlucky effort of reason 
and common sense, created a 
short embarrassment, but it was 
Dardoned on consideration of the 



sufferings and former exertions of 
the convert. 

He passed the remainder of 
his days and died in this religi- 
ous persuasion; but his funeral 
was similar to the contentious 
manner in which he had passed 
the former part of his life ; for 
the corpse being conveyed to a 
Quakers' meeting house in Al- 
dersgate-street, a long and seri- 
ous controversy took place. 

The subject of dispute was, 
whether the coffin should be 
covered or not; on this impor- 
tant point, " harangues, preach- 
ments, and holdings forth as the 
spirit directed," continued Jor 
four hours, when it was decided 
by a strange medley there as- 
sembled, that a hearse-cloth 
should not be thrown over the 
coffin. 

LOVER, a despairing one, 
thus described in a song, by 
Mr. Horace Walpole. 

It is presented to my readers, 
not from there being any thing 
remarkably excellent or original 
either in texture or thought, but 
because it is evidently the source 
from which a bon vivant of the 
present dav, drew materials for 
one of the best songs. 

As a clear silent stream crept 
pensive along, 

And the winds murmur'd so- 
lemn the willows among, 

On 



128 



LOVER. 



On the green turf complaining 

a swain lay reclin'd, 
And wept to the river, and sigh'd 

to the wind. 

In vain, cried he, nature has 

waken'd the spring, 
In vain bloom the vi'lets, and 

nightingales sing ; 
To a heart full of sorrow no 

beauties appear, 
Each zephyr's a sigh, and each 

dew-drop a tear. 

In vain my Zelinda has beau- 
ties to move 

The fairest to envy, the wisest 
to love ; 

Her presence no longer gives 
joy to my eye, 

And without her to live, is more 
pain than to die. 

Oh that slumber its pinions 
would over me spread, 

And paint but her image in 
dreams, in her stead: 

The beautiful vision would sof- 
ten my pain, 

But sleep's a relief I solicit in 
vain. 

The wretch who like me is 

sinking with care, 
Led astray by false lures, and 

distracted by fear; 
His pangs, even waking, deny 

him repose, 
And the moments but vary, to 

vary his woes. 

Persons in the habit of read- 



ing or hearing recited this spe- 
cies of composition, may also be 
of opinion that the same writer 
has borrowed a thought or two 
from the following old song, 
originally addressed to a woman 
of distinction: — 

Oh, how could I venture to 

love one like thee, 
And thou not despise a poor 

conquest like me : 
On lordly admirers you look'd 

with disdain, 
And tho* I was humble you 

pitied my pain ; 
Others flatter and vow and my 

silence despise, 
But while they are talking you 

read love in my eyes. 
By your converse how much do 

I hourly improve, 
You enliven by wit, and en- 
rapture bv love ; 
And when the sweet transports 

of joy find an end, 
What I lose as a lover, I gain 

as a friend. 
When I view you, and hear, I'm 

inclin'd to adore; 
The angel transform'd seems 

a woman no more. 
But when tasting those lips, on 

that bosom reclin'd, 
Then more than an angel, a 

woman I find: 
With such a companion, I '11 

never dtspair, 
Your eyes and your smiles shall 
banish all care; 

Good 



Good sense shall preserve when 

passion's decay'd, 
The conquest your beauty and 

kindness have made. 

MAN IN THE MOON, a 
book so called, published 
in 1638, and written by Dr. 
Godwin, bishop of Llandaff, in 
the reign of Oueen Elizabeth, 
and collated to the see of Here- 
ford, by her successor King 
James the first. 

This curious and scarce pro- 
duction was composed when 
the author was a young student 
at Christchurch College, Ox- 
ford, under the assumed name 
of Domingo Gonzales; opposite 
the title page is a plate repre- 
senting a man drawn up from 
the summit of a mountain with 
an engine, set in motion by 
birds; it excited wonder and 
censure, and is supposed to have 
supplied hints to Dr. Wilkins, 
bishop of Chester, in compiling 
his work, called, (s A Discovery 
of a New World in the Moon." 
Dr. Godwin is familiar to 
most clerical readers as author 
of the " Praesules Anglicani," 
a useful referential work ; and 
his " Nuncius Tiranima," is 
said to have contained the seeds 
of that modern discovery, a tele 7 
graph. 

The title prefixed to the pre- 
sent article, was also chosen by 

VOL. IV. 



MARCHMONT, NEEDHAM. 



129 



a literary adventurer in modem 
times, for a work which he 
made the vehicle of personal 
abuse, levelled against an emi- 
nent political character, a favo- 
rite, with all his numerous er- 
rors, a favorite with the editor of 
this collection ; but the blunder- 
buss, loaded with misrepresenta- 
tion, recoiled on the arm which 
discharged it; imbelle teliim sine 
ictu, a harmless arrow from an 
unskilful hand. 

MARCHMONT, NEED- 
HAM, a native of Ox- 
fordshire, the son of a provin- 
cial toast, whose charms, or 
whose ale, inflamed the imagi- 
nations and irritated the passions 
of the frequenters of her father's 
house, the George Inn, at Rur- 
ford, in that county. 

The candidates for the lady's 
favor were numerous, but the 
happy man, I mean in a legiti- 
mate, honorable way, was father 
of the subject of this article, 
formerly of St. John's college, 
descended from a good family in 
Derbyshire, but at the time he 
married Miss Collier, page, as 
was the custom of those days, 
to Lady Elizabeth Walter, sister 
to Lord Lucas, and wife of Sit 
William Walter, of Sarsden, in 
the neighbourhood of Rurford. 

The possession of beauty, and 
the pleasure, no small one, cf 



130 



MARCHMONT, NEEDHAM. 



having won that which had been 
long and eagerly sought by 
others, were not long enjoyed by 
Mr. Need ham. 

Little more than a year, a 
short, a quick- spent year of rap- 
ture and delight, had passed away, 
when death, invited as was sup- 
posed by intoxicating bliss, 

<l Quick entered death his trans- 
ports to destroy, 
And shut up all the avenues to 

joy-" 

Marchmont's mother did not 
long remain a widow; the vicar 
of the parish, a former suitor, 
who still ardently loved her, and 
like the editor of the present 
collection, feeling that a young 
woman suckling her infant, is 
an object in the highest degree 
interesting and attractive, again 
offered her his hand, which 
Mrs. Needham accepted. 

A more fortunate circum- 
stance for the child could not 
have taken place: the clergyman, 
Mr. Glynn, well read in the clas- 
sics, and what is of much more 
consequence, a humane and ho- 
/nest man, finding as the boy grew 
up that he possessed good parts, 
and what does not always accom- 
pany them, diligent application, 
attended particularly to his edu- 
cation, and improved his mind 
by every means in his power. 

With these and other helps, 



the young man was sent at an 
early age to the college of All 
Souls, where he took his degree 
with credit as bachelor of arts, 
and repairing to London, be- 
came an assistant in a school, 
at that time and still well con- 
ducted, under the patronage of 
the Merchant Tailors' company, 
of London. 

But to use the words of his 
biographer, it being quickly dis- 
covered that he possessed the pen 
of a ready writer, he soon quit- 
ted the didactic line, took cham- 
bers in Gray's Inn, and com- 
menced editor of a diurnal^ cal- 
led " Mercurius Britannicus\" 
he sided with the rout and scum 
of the people, during the civil 
war between King Charles the 
first and his parliament, and 
joined with others in sacrificing 
royalty and nobility " to the 

BEAST WITH MANY HEADS." 

Being generally known under 
the denomination of Captain 
Needham, he became so popu- 
lar, <e that whatever he said or 
wrote passed for gospej, and 
having studied medicine in tfe 
chemical way, he added the 
practice of a physician to his 
profession as a political writer; 
thus maintaining himself in a 
genteel fashion." 

But possessing more than a 
common share of the proverbial 
irritability of an author, fancy- 
ing 



MARCHMONT, NEEDHAM. 



131 



ing himself inadequately reward- 
ed, or resenting ill usage, March- 
mont deserted the good old 
cause, and being considered by 
the cavaliers as one who 
might render them essential ser- 
vices, he obtained the king's 
pardon and was favorably re- 
ceived by the royalists. 

Soon after this change of po- 
litics, he conducted, and if pos- 
sible, with more than his former 
virulence, another diurnal, to 
which he gave the name of Mer- 
curius Pragmaticus, at once 
witty, satirical, and loyal; but 
his strictures being personally 
and grossly scurrilous against 

THE PRESBYTERIANS, who then 

ruled the roast, he found it ne- 
cessary to hide himself, and 
quitting London in the night, 
took refuge at the house of his 
friend Dr. Heylin, in Oxford- 
shire. 

This retreat being discovered 
by his own want of caution, or 
the treachery of others, he was 
seized, sent in custody to Lon- 
don, and confined in Newgate. 

On this occasion he had cre- 
ated so many enemies by the 
flippancy of his pen and the 
rudeness of his invective, that 
great pains were taken by the 
round-heads to bring him to 
capital punishment; but Lent- 
hall, speaker of the House of 
Commons, and the president 



Bradshaw, protected him from 
the fury of his political assail- 
ants; they were both well ac- 
quainted with his family, con- 
scious of his literary abilities, 
and not without hopes of reco- 
vering the lost sheep; they en- 
deavoured by the united force of 
gratitude and interest, to pre- 
vail on him to join thb inde- 
pendents, who now carried all 
before them. 

Having succeeded in their de- 
sign, Needham again saw his 
error; fearless of shame, or em- 
boldened by conviction, he com- 
menced another weekly paper, 
called Mercurius Politicus; in 
which he unblushingly avowed 
himself " a Goliah fighting for 
the Philistines, a champion stalk- 
ing forth for the usurper, and 
boasting that his pen was a 
weaver's beam." 

At the restoration of King 
Charles the second, knowing 
himself to be a marked man, he 
fled into Holland, where he re- 
mained till a pardon under the 
great seal was procured for him, 
a proceeding attended with many 
obstacles, as he had reviled both 
the king and his father with 
mastiff zeal ; by the aid of love 
and money, the great smoothers 
of all difficulties, his peace at 
length was made in consequence 
of a well-timed application to one 
of his majesty's female favorites, 
s 2 Needham 



132 



MARRIED WOMEN. 



Needham returned to En- 
gland, and had occasion more 
than once to produce the official 
evidence of his clearance, being 
repeatedly dragged before a ma- 
gistrate by the triumphant cava- 
UerSy who could scarcely be- 
lieve that any favor would be 
shewn to so violent and bare- 
faced a renegade 

Soon after his absconding he 
was attacked, as such writers de- 
serve, in his own way ; a viru- 
lent pamphlet issued from the 
press, entitled, " A Rope for 
Mercurius Polilicus, or a Hue 
and Cry after Marchmont Need- 
ham, a late scurrilous News- 
writer." (London, 1660.) 

By this anonymous author he 
was called the father of lies, and 
Severely reprobated for calumni- 
ating his sovereign, abusing the 
nobility, blasphemingthe church, 
and poisoning the public mind. 

Yet with so many enemies 
exasperated by his petulant ma- 
lignity, he returned to London, 
where he practiced as a physi- 
cian, was an assiduous employer 
of the press, and at length died 
in his bed, in 1678, whilst many 
individuals, some of whom are 
above recorded in this collection, 
less active, less furious, and less 
mischievous, were publickly ex- 
ecuted, banished, or assassina- 
ted, and the whole of their pro- 
perty confiscated. 



MEANS OF SUBSIST- 
ENCE, in case of fa- 
mine, scarcity, or being placed 
in circumstances where the usual 
instruments of life are out of our 
reach; for a few hints on this 
subject, which God Almighty 
grant we may never be driven 
to, but which it cannot hurt us 
to know, see the article siege. 

MARRIED WOMEN; a 
song addressed to them 
and written many years since 
by a good wife, who was placed 
in the unfortunate predicament 
alluded to in the verses, and 
though possessing apparently 
strong attractions, corporal as 
well as mental, found herself 
under the disagreeable necessity 
of practising herself those max- 
ims of forbearance, she had so 
emphatically recommended to 
others. 

To make the man kind and keep 

true to your bed, 
Whom choice or whom destiny 

leads vouto wed; 
Take a hint from a friend, whom 

experience has taught, 
Which 'tis said we don't value, 

unless we have bought. 
The arts which you practis'd at 

first to ensnare, 
(For in love, little arts, as in bat- 
tle are fair) 
Whether beauty or prudence or 

wit were the bait, 

Let 



MELVILLE, VISCOUNT. 



13$ 



Let the hook still be covered, 

and still play the cheat ; 
Should he fancy another, up- 
braid not his flame, 
To reproach him is never the 

way to reclaim : 
'Tis more to recover than con- 
quer a heart, 
For this is all nature, but that 

is all art; 
Good sense is to them, what a 

face is to you, 
Flatter that and like us, they 

will think it their due; 
Doubt the strength of your 
judgment compar'd with his 
own, 
And he'll give you perfections, 

at present unknown : 
Tho* you feel that your rival his 

bounty partakes, 
That your once ardent lover his 

duty forsakes; 
Be still debonwaire, kind, enga- 
ging, and free, 
Be deaf tho' you hear, and be 
blind tho' you see. 

This it must be confessed is a 
hard lesson, but every other 
mode of proceeding has been 
found to augment the disease 
it endeavoured to remedv. 

A wife so situated is in a 
cruel dilemma, and much to be 
pitied, for her only alttrnative is 
to connive at criminality or lose 
her husband for ever; reproach, 
irritation, and domestic discord, 
being unfailing producers of in- 



difference, coldness, and hatred. 
A striking example of this 
truism may be seen under the ar- 
ticle Kyte, in this volume : on 
this occasion the criminal hus- 
band was heard repeatedly to 
declare, that as a bed-fellow and 
a fire-side companion, his wife 
was far preferable to the pol- 
luted objects of his choice, but 
that he never could forgive his 
wife for the rudeness and fury of 
her attack. 

MELVILLE, VISCOUNT, 
his resignation, its causes, 
and consequences. 

This subject, which at the 
moment I write considerably 
interests the public mind, merits 
consideration : a minister, who 
for the greater part of a long and 
active life, and under almost 
every administration, has filled 
the most important offices of the 
state, is in fact, though not in 
form, suddenly dismissed from a 
trust of the highest confidence 
and responsibility, and under 
circumstances of general irrita- 
tion, odium, and disgrace. 

The charge alledged against 
the peer, and supposed by his 
adversaries to have been clearly 
proved, is, that when treasurer 
of the navy during a former ad- 
ministration, he had, by him- 
self or subordinate agents, with- 
drawn enormous sums of the 
public 



134 



MELVILLE, VISCOUNT. 



public money, from their safe 
and only legal place of deposit, 
the bank of England, not indeed 
with fraudulent views, but for 
the equally illegal purpose of 
placing it in the hands of a pri- 
vate banker, and deriving from 
it large profits by discounting 
bills, and other kinds of pecu- 
niary traffic, with which monied 
men are well acquainted. 

This misdemeanour it would 
be neither decent nor right for a 
private individual to hesitate on, 
or to deny, after it had been de- 
cided on by a solemn censure 
of the legislative, and punished 
by the executive power ; neither 
is it designed in this article, to 
enter into the merits of or de- 
fend the general conduct of Lord 
Melville in this particular act of 
degradation ; my purpose is to 
lament, that in a moment like 
the present, when we stand in 
need of all our energies, mental 
as well as corporal, against our 
restless and assiduous enemies 
the French, that the public is to 
lose the beneficial exertions of 
an individual, qualified by nature 
and long experience to render 
his country great and essential 
services. 

Could the voice of so insigni- 
ficant a man as the editor of 
these pages have been heard 
amidst the rage of contending 
parties, and the mastiff zeal of 



personal malignity, he would in- 
stantly have proposed a heavy fine 
(fifty thousand pounds) to have 
been laid on his lordship; but the 
cabinet and the admiralty should 
not have been deprived of a 
public functionary, possessing, 
I acknowledge with many faults, 
great abilities, mellowed by age, 
and improved by long experi- 
ence. 

In that case the noble offend- 
er would have been dealt with 
as we generally proceed in our 
intercourse with professional 
men; he whom we consider as 
able to afford us the readiest 
service, and not the most imma- 
culate moral character, is the 
man we prefer. 

By such a mode of proceeding 
on these and similar occasions, 
the nation would not so fre- 
quently be deprived of valuable 
servants, who are often faulty in 
proportion to the powers they 
possess; anotheradvantage would 
also arise, by exacting such 
heavy penalties, large sums 
would often be paid into the 
public treasury, and assist ill 
providing for the enormous ex- 
penses of a war, which we could 
not with honor have avoided, 
but which will take fifteen shil- 
lings out of twenty of all we pos- - 
sess, before it is concluded. 

The violent outcry raised on 

this and other occasions, reminds 

me 



MINORCA. 



135 



me of a reply made to Oliver 
Goldsmith, by the elder Col- 
man, during the rehearsal of a 
comedy of the former, which 
contrary to the expectations of 
all concerned, succeeded wonder- 
fully; the piece of which I 
speak was " She stoops to 
conquer." 

While it was rehearsing, the 
eccentric author remarked a 
passage which he thought might 
give offence, and wished to 
expunge. "My dear sir," re- 
plied the manager, " do not 
let us start at squibs, when we 
have been sitting these three 
hours on a barrel of gun -pow- 
der." 

MINISTERIAL LUM- 
BER.-" Among other 
bad company with which the 
court abounds," says a modern 
writer, " may be reckoned a 
sort of men, too low to be much 
regarded, and too high to be 
quite neglected ; the lumber of 
every administration, the furni- 
ture of every court. 

(i These gilt, carved figures, 
who are seldom answerable for 
more than men on a chess board, 
these insigniiicants are generally 
excepted in all charges of minis- 
try, whenever a cleansing of the 
augean stable is thought neces- 
sarv* 



** Yet I would not be wholly 
without them, they are what a 
prince should not be deprived of. 
These gentry decorate palaces, 
and decide on the etiquette of 
drawing rooms and levees, they 
are necessary for purposes of 
dignity, they are requisite for 
carrying on state machinery, 
and occupy a space which might 
otherwise be worse filled." 

MINORCA, an island in 
the Mediterranean sea, 
alternately possessed by England 
and by Spain; for a long time 
gallantly defended against forces 
enormously superior to his own, 
by General Blakeney, in the 
eighteenth century. 

On the subject of the cele- 
brated siege of Fort St. Phillip, 
this intrepid veteran used to re- 
late that an incident occurred 
previous to it, which perplexed 
him to the full as much as the 
enemy's attacks. 

This was, the elopement of 
three nuns from the monastery 
of St. Claire with two English 
officers. 

These gentlemen having been 
induced by curiosity to con- 
verse at the iron grate, saw twO 
of the fair recluses with whom 
they fell desperately in love, and 
declared their passion, solemnly 
promising at the same time to 
marry 



136 



MINORCA. 



marry them, if they could con- 
trive to escape from the place 
of their confinement. 

The military men soon found 
that their offers were by no 
means disagreeable, and many 
schemes were formed by the 
prisoners to elude the vigilance 
of their keepers. 

At length by one of those 
lucky accidents, to which lovers 
as well as warriors are sometimes 
indebted for success, they pro- 
cured the key of a door which 
led from the house into an ad- 
joining garden. 

Taking advantage of darkness 
and the extreme old age of the 
nun whose business it was to 
lock them up, at the hour of 
midnight they crept softly down 
stairs into the garden, where 
they found the two gentlemen 
ready to receive them. 

The lovers were surprized and 
somewhat abashed when a third 
lady made her appearance, but 
their apprehensions were soon 
quieted on being informed, that 
the stranger who excited their 
fears, was an intimate friend 
and confidante, who hating her 
present state of captivity, and 
dreading a deprivation of their 
society, had insisted on accom- 
panving them. 

There yet remained a con- 
siderable difficulty to surmount; 
this was a wall twenty feet high, 



which surrounded the garden of 
the convent on every side. 

To men with rope ladders, 
who were resolved to run all 
risks to gain possession of youth 
and beauty, this seemed nothing; 
but to girls, neither of whom 
had reached the age of nineteen, 
the attempt was formidable, be- 
sides the risk of being heard or 
seen by persons passing in the 
street where they were to de- 
scend. 

By a concurrence of caution 
and good luck the nuns climbed 
safely over the wall, and were 
lodged by the fortunate lovers in 
safe and creditable quarters. 

The next day at early matins, 
when the fugitives were missed^ 
the town as well as con- 
vent became a scene of uproar 
and confusion; the English 
were strongly suspected of as- 
sisting in this escape, the inha- 
bitants for the most part rigid 
Catholics, being sure that none 
butHERETicKs could be capable 
of so wicked and abominable an 
action. 

The officers in the mean time 
applied to their chaplain to mar- 
ry them, according to the rites 
and ceremonies of the church of 
England. 

This gentleman informed 
them, that if the ladies still con- 
tinued Catholics, he would not, 
nor indeed could he lawfully 
join 



MINORCA. 



137 



join them in wedlock, for al- 
though he considered the vow of 
chastity which they had taken 
as in itself illegal, yet it was 
bind iag while they continued of 
the Popish persuasion. 

This obstruction to the grati- 
fication of the wishes of all par- 
ties being communicated to the 
nuns, they replied, " that the 
vow they had taken, independent 
of any religious opinions, was 
unlawful, as it had been extorted 
from them by force ; that they 
communicated their sentiments 
on this subject to their confessor 
soon after being sent to the con- 
vent, and he informed them, if 
they left the convent, they 
would certainly be put to death 
by their families/' 

The young women further in- 
formed the officers, " that when 
their confessor acquainted the 
abbess with what had been told 
him of their strong aversion to a 
recluse life, she ordered them to 
be confined in a dungeon, and 
to be fed only on bread and 
water; they were also severely 
whipped every day, which at 
length compelled them to submit ; 
" That this cruel usage and the 
unnatural restraint in which they 
lived, the Almighty having evi- 
dently created us all to be hap- 
py as long as we can be so with 
innocence, had gradually, and 
long before their acquaintance 

vol, iv. 



with the English gentlemen, in- 
fused into their minds doubts 
of the truth of that religious 
system which imposed and coun- 
tenanced such hardships, or 
could suppose a Being, like God, 
could approve of them; in short, 
that they were ready to embrace 
the Protestant faith, if the wor- 
thy chaplain would have the 
goodness to undertake the task of 
instructing them." 

During the whole of these 
transactions, which were com- 
municated to General Blakeney, 
he gave strict and particular or- 
ders that no force or compulsion 
should on any account or under 
any pretence be made use of; 
Catholic clergymen and the 
friends of the ladies were also 
permitted to visit, and exhort, 
and to persuade ; but liberty of 
person and opinion was not by 
any means to be violated, the 
general observing on the occasion 
that he was heartily sorry for what 
had happened, and if he could, 
would have prevented it; but 
, from the turn things had taken, 
and the island being for the 
present under the dominion of 
the king of England, the prin- 
ciples of a free government must 
not be departed from. 

The affair greatly interested 
the public mind and consider- 
ably agitated the clergy, regular 
as well as secular; one peculiarity 
t wa# 



138 



MINORCA. 



was observed $ the doors and 
windows of the room where the 
nuns slept were sealed every 
night in the presence of their 
friends and the confessor, and 
opened before them in the morn- 
ing, to satisfy the parents of the 
young women that no illicit in- 
tercourse was carried on. 

At length, in spite of public cla- 
mour and private remonstrance, 
the fair Minorquines renounced 
the faith and errors of the 
church of Rome, and having de- 
clared themselves Protestants, 
the same day received and con- 
ferred happiness by being mar- 
ried to their military lovers; 
their associate in this escape, 
imitating their avowal of the 
Protestant persuasion, not long 
after became the wife of an 
English gentleman. 

On this occasion the governor 
had a nice and difficult part to 
act; and the following letter was 
written by him to the Vicar- 
general of Minorca, who, as 
well as the friends of the young 
women, were anxious that they 
should be given up ; — 

January %Tth> 1748. 

REVEREND SIR, 

I who a! ways loved 
peace and have a natural aver- 
sion to disputes, cannot see but 
with regret a disturbance -in my 



government which it is not easy 
to pacify, unless I act in direct 
contradiction to the spirit and 
principles of the English con- 
stitution, which cannot be de- 
parted from in any part of the 
dominions of that sovereign I 
have the honour to serve. 

But to convince you that I 
wish to act according to the 
strict rules of reason and jus- 
tice, as well as from strong con- 
viction, I request of you, laying 
aside passion and the prejudices 
of education, to place yourself 
in my situation, and to view 
the affair, — not as it appears to 
you, a dignified Catholic, warm 
with zeal, and animated I doubt 
not by good intentions, — but as it 
must appear to me a Protestant, 
placed in an office of high trust 
and responsibility, and the repre- 
sentative of a great king, whose 
family were placed on the British 
throne as the professed preservers 
of civil and religious liberty. 

Three young ladies have 
escaped from a nunnery, of their 
own free will and accord, with- 
out force or violence; at their 
own desire they are sheltered in 
an English gentleman's house, 
and treated according to the 
strictest rules of honor. 

On being asked their reason? 

for quitting the society of which 

they formed a part, their reply 

is, that they were tired of a life 

per- 



MINORCA. 



139 



perpetually spent in confinement, 
prayer, and mortification, and in 
consequence of a vow extorted 
from them by threatenings and 
severe punishments, they con- 
clude with professing an ardent 
desire to embrace the Protestant 
religion. 

On being fully informed of 
this affair, I was fearful that the 
ladies changing their religion 
might appear a hasty, rash, and 
unpremeditated step, I therefore 
ordered th?.t such of the clergy 
of your church as their friends 
approved, might have the liberty 
of conversing with them, but 
that no force but that of reason- 
ing and argument should be 
made use of. 

This liberty you know was , 
grossly and dishonourably abused 
by the parents of one of the. 
parties, who by manual violence 
carried away and concealed the 
terrified nun; had not the young 
lady been happily found, I 
should have been under the ne- 
cessity of severely punishing the 
" perpetrators of -this outrage and 
their abettors. 

Terrified by this proceeding 
they loudly call for my pro- 
tection, and demand admission 
into our Protestant church. 
As a member of that commu- 
nion and a christian, can I pre- 
vent the doors of everlasting 



life being opened unto them; 
as a citizen of the land of liberty, 
which it is my -pride and boast 
to have been born and bred in, 
can I blame them for having fled 
from a cruel, unnatural, and de- 
grading bondage ? 

There is also another reason 
against my granting your re- 
quest ; Maria Gomela and Isa- 
bella Sintos are both married to 
English officers, and how can I 
separate those whom God has 
joined together? It is indeed 
what I have no authority to do, 
and would subject me to the 
penalties of our laws, which are 
no respecters of persons : as to 
the single lady, she is at pre- 
sent in a family of honor and 
distinction, and perhaps will 
soon wish to be married herself, 
and if so inclined, I apprehend 
it is neither in my power, sir, 
nor your's, to prevent it. 

I assure you this busines has 
occasioned me great uneasiness, 
and I hope you are convinced, 
that I could neither prevent nor 
remedy it in the manner you 
point out, without failing in 
duty to my sovereign, and dis- 
obeying the dictates of my own 
conscience. 

I have taken good care that 
nothing of the kind shall happen 
again, and it shall be represented 
as necessary for the peace of 
T 2 this 



140 



NAMES AND SURNAMES. 



this island to confirm and ratify 
what I have done by proper legal 
penalties. 

Assure yourself of my readi- 
ness to oblige you on all lawful 
occasions, and that I am, rever- 
end sir, your's, 

W. Blakeney. 

NAMES and SURNAMES. 
A subject occasionally men- 
tioned in different parts of 
this miscellany, and to which 
some persons attach an import- 
ance greater than it may seem 
to deserve; yet the names we 
bestow on men and things merit 
their degree of consideration. 

I can easily conceive a nervous 
hypochondriacal patient thrown 
into fainting fits on being told 
that Dr. Death, actually the 
name of a medical man in Lon- 
don, within fifty years, and pro- 
bably related to a respectable 
Kentifh family, but who spell it 
with a diphthong, that Dr. Death 
was coming up stairs ; and the 
freeholders of a county would pro- 
bably put on forbidding looks, 
were they told that Tom Long 
and Big Ben solicited their votes 
and interests as parliamentary 
candidates attheensuing election. 

Yet the Doctor might be no 
friend to his name-sake, Tom 
Long no longer a carrier, and 
Big Ben, in spite of inveterate 
prejudice, might he a respectable 
member of society. 



Many years ago I remember 
a street in the vicinity of London, 
but now, by theincessantlaborsof 
masons, carpenters and ground 
landlords, buried in and form- 
ing a part of our enormous me- 
tropolis. Two of the houses 
in it were occupied by surgeons, 
Mr. Bigg, and Mr. Little; 
the name of each was Alexander. 
As any passenger approached, 
A. Bigg, surgeon, first caught 
his eye, and a few paces further, 
A Little, surgeon: this accidental 
assemblage was thought ludi- 
crous, and produced a laugh, 
but it also produced wisdom; for 
the professional men soon remo- 
ved the plates from their doors, as 
they found that the circumstance, 
though trifling, injured their prac- 
tice, and for this reason ; him 
whom we are long in the habit 
of laughing at, from whatever 
cause, we shall soon cease to 
respect. 

The opinions of a writer, at a 
certain time a great favorite with 
the public, were strongly in favor 
of the theory here attempted to 
be established. 

" It was his opinion," says 
Sterne, speaking of uncle Toby, 
(C that there was a strange kind 
of magic bias impressed on our 
characters and conduct by good 
or bad names : * how many 
Caesars and Pompeys,' would he 
say, ' have been inspired into 
worthy actions by exalted names, 
and 



NAMES AND SURNAMES. 



14! 



and how many good men, on the 
contrary, have been depressed 
by degrading appellations, and 
Nicodemised into nothing P y 

" I see that you do not sub- 
scribe to my opinion, but I ap- 
peal to your good sense and can- 
dour, if any motive could have 
prevailed on you to consent that 
your son should have been 
christened Judas Iscariot. 

" Had a Jew made you the 
offer, with a very large sum of 
money in case you complied, I 
am sure you would have turned 
from the tempter with abhor- 
rence; convinced, that the name 
accompanying him, like his sha- 
dow, through life would affect his 
moral qualities, and make him a 
miserly treacherous rascal. 

(i I have no patience with 
people affecting an indifference 
about the surname of a child, 
and debating for hours whether 
a dog or a horse shall be called 
Ponto, Cupid, Sweetlips, Pota- 
toes, or King Fergus." 

Nick-names have also ex- 
ercised the talents of commenta- 
tors and critics : from these sin- 
gular efforts of humour, malice, 
envy, or revenge, the most pow- 
erful monarchs, legislators, he- 
roes, conquerors, and statesmen, 
have not escaped. 

They have been occasionally 
applied to the worst, and often to 



the best of men ; have been au- 
thenticated by statues and inscrip- 
tions, repeated by poets and 
historians, and ultimately im- 
mortalized on coins. 

Generally deducingtheir origin 
from some defect of body or of 
mind, from some singularity in 
dress, speech, or manners, these 
appellative additions are founded 
on that irresistible tendency in 
mankind which has appeared at 
all ages, to raise a laugh at the 
expence of their superiors 

It cannot be denied, that this 
prerogative of satirical buffoonery 
has often been usefully exercised 
in lashing vice and irrational sin- 
gularity ; but it appears to have 
been sometimes misapplied by 
vulgar malignity, which, des- 
pairing to attain legitimate supe- 
riority and honest fame, diligently 
hunts for and elaborately pub- 
limes the errors and obliquities 
from which no sublunary being 
is exempt, hoping by these 
means to bring down worth and 
talent to its own level. 

Justice and common sense 
should seem to impel us to bestow, 
undiminished praise on Sergius, 
a Roman pontiff, and the fourth 
of that name, at the commence- 
ment of the eleventh century ; 
he was eminent for learning, con- 
sidering the period at which he 
lived, of correct manners, zea- 
lous 



142 



NAMES AND SURNAMES. 



lous in the cause of religion, and 
remarkable for charitable bene- 
volence to the poor. But the 
Pope's countenance exhibited 
an unfortunate combination of 
features, which could not escape 
the mockery of those who were 
fed by his bounty; while eat- 
ing his bread, these worthy cha- 
racters could not resist the pre- 
ponderating impulse of humour. 
They observed that old hog's- 
snout, to which the lower part 
of the pontiff's face bore a strik- 
ing resemblance, that (C old 
hog's-snout was a good sort of 
jellow" This filthy addition has 
adhered to the name of Sergius 
for almost 800 years, and proba- 
bly will be attached to it so long 
as ecclesiastical chronology con- 
tinues to be an object of literary 
investigation. 

It is impossible to doubt, that 
the soldiers of Julius Caesar 
were warmly attached to their 
commander; his generosity, suc- 
cess, and the manner in which 
they fought for him, are strong 
collateral proofs; yet when the 
victor entered Rome in triumph- 
ant procession, they were heard to 
say as they marched along, and 
in the dictator's hearing, " Ro- 
mans, take care of your wives 
and daughters, bald-pate is 
come again." 

In this mode of bestowing 
titles, to borrow them, and from 



animals, has been a favorite re- 
source, particularly if the resem- 
blance in name as well as quality- 
admitted a pun. Verves, who 
hoped that his being a man of 
taste would excuse rapacity and 
oppression, Verres could not 
escape the allusion of his name 
to a boar- pig; Asinius Pollio 
joined in the laugh raised at his 
first denomination by his friend 
Horace. Voconius Vitulus might 
naturally expect to be called a 
calf; and Statilius Taurus, a de- 
scendant from the family of the 
Bulls. 

At an early period in Nero's 
reign, before he became an in- 
furiate monster stained with ma- 
ternal blood, a table companion 
ventured on an extemporary pun ; 
one of his names being-Tiberius, 
he called him Biberius Nero, 
from his- inordinate love of 
wine. 

It has not been decided whether 
the family name of Cicero was 
produced by a wen on the face 
of the man who first bore it, or 
from one of the orator's ances. 
tors having been a successful cul- 
tivator of vetches. 

The name of Caligula was 
given to that emperor because he 
always wore a species of foot- 
harness so called, and generally 
used by the legionary soldiers 
only. In a similar way the fourth 
of the Antonines was called Ca- 
racal I a, 



NAMES AND SURNAMES. 



14a 



racalla, the name of a favorite 
dress in which he generally ap- 
peared. 

The Greek lampooners named 
Socrates flat nose, an internal 
evidence in favor of his correct 
conduct ; had Mr. Cumber- 
land's censure been well-founded, 
they would have bestowed some 
epithet more grossly appropriate 
on a man they so much hated and 
feared . 

The satirical Syrians named 
their King Antiochus, griffin 
head. Michael the fifth, em- 
peror of Constantinople, was 
humiliated on hearing the term 
calaphates, repeated by the 
crowd as he passed the streets, 
his good subjects having dis- 
covered that the father of their 
. sovereign had been as hip- caulker* 
It is well known that Leo 
was called iconoclastes from 
his opposition to image- worship 3 
one of the Egyptian Ptolomies 
EIG-EELLIED from his unsym- 
metrical form, and another, au- 
letes, from his fondness for 
and dexterity in playing on a 
flute; no small misfortune for 
his subjects, if it prevented his 
minding his business as a king. 

The Emperor Frederick the 
first, from the colour of his 
beard, was distinguished by the 

Word BARBAROSSA. 

It has been observed 'bv a 



modern writer, and before him 
by Horace, that coarse and de- 
grading names adhere to the 
memory more tenaciously, than 
titles of honor and panegyric. 

Discit enim citius meminitque 

libentius Mud 
Quod quis deridet, quam quod 

probat et veneratur. 

They also in another respect 
are preferable to mere numeri- 
cal additions, as being shortly 
descriptive, they impress on 
young minds particular aeras, 
dynasties, and periods, with ac- 
curacy, which in chronology is 
always desirable. 

In one instance, an epithet 
bestowed by Constantine on the 
excellent Trajan, and meant as a 
satirical reflection, augments the 
fame of the man he meant to 
ridicule ; he called him pareta- 
rius, from the circumstance of 
his seeing on every side as he 
passed the streets of Rome and 
elsewhere inscriptions to the 
honor of Trajan ; a circumstance 
which appears to have excited 
envy in the founder of Con- 
stantinople. 

Of two Pofcsh princes, one 
was called club-foot, and the 

other CURL-PATE. 

An illustrious French captain 

of the 14th century, instead of 

acquiring an appellation by his 

personal 



144 



NAMES AND SURNAMES. 



personal prowess and great mili- 
tary success, was known gene- 
rally by the name of gnaw- 

CRUST. 

On many of our English 
kings these additions have been 
bestowed: on Alfred, who re- 
covered us from barbarism to 
civilization, and whom no En- 
glishman should ever forget, 
the well-earned and appropri- 
ate epithet of great has been 
universally bestowed ; Edgar 
was the peaceaele; his suc- 
cessor, the martyr; and Ed- 
mund, from his matchless cou- 
rage, his muscular form, or his 
constantly wearing armour in 
his unceasing battles with Ca- 
nute, was called ironside. 

Harold the first was hake- 
foot; our third Edward, the 
confessor; William the first, 
before conquest had effaced ille- 
gitimacy, was always styled the 
bastard; and his unfortunate 
son, who fell by Tyrrell's arrow 
in the New Forest, Rufus, 
from his red hair: of his bro- 
thers, Henry bore an epithet for 
his learning, and Robert, from 
the shortness of his small-cloaths. 
On Henry the second and a 
considerable number of noble 
personages the singular appel- 
lation of Plantagenet was be- 
stowed; this literally means a 
Iroom-stick, and is said to have 
derived its origin from one of 



their ancestors, an Earl of Anjou, 
who doing penance for his crimes 
by a pilgrimage toJerusalem, was 
scourged with a rod of broom 
twigs at the holy sepulchre. 

Why Richard the first was 
called Coeur de Lion, is ob- 
vious to every general reader, and 
to every one who has heard Ro- 
manzini sing: to John his bro- 
ther the name of Lackland 
was given by his own father, and 
in his will, in which bequeath- 
ing him neither lands nor here- 
ditaments, he meant him to re- 
main dependent on the bounty of 
his eldest son. 

The military glory of Edward 
the first, King of England, Lord 
of Ireland, and Duke of Aqui- 
taine, could not shelter him 
from the coarse nick-name of 
long-shanks; Henry the fourth, 
that canker Bullingbrook, 
was so called from an obscure 
village ' in Lincolnshire, the 
place of his birth ; for the same 
reason his truant son, but after- 
wards that illustrious warrior our 
fifth Henry, the pride of En- 
gland and the scourge of France, 
was surnamed Monmouth. 

The life and reign of Richard 
the third, however plausibly de- 
fended by Buck, and ingeniously 
handled by the pleasant Horace 
Walpoie, seem to afford abun- 
dant materials for abusive epi- 
thet and declamatory invective; 
but 



NATURAL ENEMIES. 



J45 



but his enemies could not be 
content, unless the arrow of 
hostility was poisoned by the 
bitterness of gross personality: 
they called him crook-back, 
a mal- formation in which the 
tyrant could not be instru- 
mental; but for which he was 
probably indebted to his mother's 
fondness of a slender waist, to a 
rash, impatient accoucheur, or 
to an hereditary scrophula. 

The correct taste of later 
times abstains from this vulgar 
propensity; yet in several in- 
stances nick-names are expres- 
sive, and inflict an incurable 
wound on a class of persons, who 
placed by power above law, are 
sometimes retained within the 
path of duty and decorum, by a 
fear of being laughed at and 
rendered contemptible to all 
posterity. 

The appropriate epithet Moody 
has I believe been generally ap- 
plied to Mary, the Catholic 
Queen of England, and the bi- 
gotted wife of Philip, King of 
Spain ; but it is to be lamented 
that no disgraceful term has 
been attached to her abominable 
father, which humouring our 
English taste for significant ab- 
breviation, would describe an 
expeller of ecclesiastic tyranny, 
though himself the greatest of 
all tyrants, an unfeeling invader 
of the rights of private opinion. 

VOL. IV. 



It is also to be wished that, 
to the name of Charles the 
second, a verbal badge of infamy 
had been attached, expressive of 
flagitious folly, a label of igno- 
miny to a king very far from 
deficient in acuteness, but who 
with the bloody impressions of 
a royal father murdered before 
his eyes, devoted his life to 
corruptive fraud, enslaving max- 
ims and gross debauchery. 

For his successor James, I 
want a word strongly significant 
of superstitious insanity, to ac- 
company his name through fu- 
ture ages. 

NATURAL ENEMIES.— 
The compiler of this col- 
lection has been censured for ap- 
plying these words to the inha- 
bitants of France; yet after a 
long and cool consideration, he 
cannot persuade himself to think 
them inapplicable. 

To be the natural enemy of 
any man or society of men, is 
to be born under circumstances 
which render us inevitably, and 
as it were, against our will, 
seekers of the same exclusive ad- 
\antages; to be placed in a si- 
tuation where it is impossible for 
both parties to be powerful, 
prosperous, and happy. 

In this instance, Sallust's de- 
finition of Friendship, is strictly 
proper in describing the sources 
v of 



146 



NATURAL ENEMIES. 



of that enmity which has con- 
tinued unimpaired for so many 
ages, between England and 
France: idem velle atque idem 
nolle. 

So placed, the two countries 
bear a close resemblance to 
shipwrecked seamen, swimming 
to a short plank, or a broken 
spar, capable of saving one and 
only one. 

In such a position, I fear that 
poor human nature would not 
hesitate long in determining how 
to act. 

My readers will readily apply 
this simile to Great Britain and 
France; the plank on which 
one and only one can safely 
float, the life-preserving plank, 
is the commercial sovereignty 
of the sea. 

On this the eyes of our rest- 
less neighbours have been for 
ages, and under every form of 
government, invariably fixed, 
from the proud boast of univer- 
sal dominion uttered in the 
victorious extacies of Louis le 
lien aime, to the more subtle 
and malignant policy of the sub- 
verter of his throne. 

As Frenchmen, they cannot 
be blamed, for could this inesti- 
mable object be once added to 
the other advantages thev pos- 
sess, our colonies in the east and 
west, Europe and the tworld, 



would in a few years be subject 
to Gallic oppression. 

But as Britons, with English 
blood circulating in our veins, 
and descended from those war- 
riors and heroes, who made 
thousands of the subjects of 
Charles the sixth bite the dust 
of Agincourt and Cressy, who 
literally and without figurative 
language, bound their kings 

IN CHAINS, AND THEIR NOBLES 

IN fetters of iron : in the 
descendants of such men, and 
possessing power, wealth, popu- 
lation, industry, skill, and cou- 
rage, we should be ideots and 
fools to drop the marine sceptre 
for a single moment from our 
hands, or to lose sight of the in- 
calculable benefit it confers. 

If once on French decks, shouts 

of victory roar, 
The crown's a red night-cap, 

and Britain's no more. 

Under these undeniable and 
imperious circumstances, which 
no argument or chicanery can 
explain away, our neighbours 
must be content to be called our 
natural enemies', for such on 
every occasion they have proved 
the Antigallican spirit must on 
every occasion and by every 
means, be nourished and invigo- 
rated ; an Englishman should 
never see a Frenchman without 
a feeling 



NELSON, LORD. 



147 



a feeling somewhat similar to 
that excited by an adder or a 
mad dog. 

The ridiculous dream of libe- 
rality and fraternization which 
once deluded so many of us, the 
dream is passed away; we ought 
to be convinced by the experi- 
ence of five hundred years, that 
nothing but humiliation and de- 
feat will make them behave with 
common decency, moderation, 
good manners, or honesty. 

There is a strong mixture of 
resiliency, overweening vanity, 
extravagant insolence, and sel- 
fishness, in the French character, 
which nothing can controul or 
remedy but a certain admirable 
English sedative, so frequently 
and so successfully administered 
many years ago by Sir Edward 
Hawke, called a good drubbing; 
this never failing remedy hath 
also been given in very respecta- 
ble doses in latter days, by 
Lord Rodney, Earl St. Vin- 
cent, Viscount Duncan, 
Lord Nelson, Sir Sidney 
Smith, Sir John Borlase 
Warren, and a long train of 
able practitioners, the enumera- 
tion of whom would convert 
this book into a nautical alma- 
nack. 

After the exterminating vic- 
tories of Lord Nelson, and the 
heroic though unsuccessful ex- 
ertions of our magnanimous 



ally, Alexander, emperor of Rus- 
sia, should an English com- 
mander have occasion to address 
his men previous to an engage- 
ment, he might literally and 
precisely make use of the words 
attributed by an antient writer 
to the excellent Scipio. v 

Nee genus belli, nee hostem 
ignoramus) cum lis pugnandum 
est quos terra manque priore 
hello vicimus; a quibus capta 
belli prcsmia habemus; et nunc 
non hostes, sed reliquias hostium 
pugnamus ; homines, fame, fri- 
gore, squaiore, enecti, contusi 
et debilitati, inter saxa rupesque, 

" We are neither ignorant of 
the species of war, nor the kind 
of enemy with whom we en- 
gage ; our contest is with those 
whom in the last war we de- 
feated by sea and land ; ships, 
prisoners, and treasure, the 
reward of victory, are in our 
possession. " 

NELSON LORD, the 
Hero of the Nile, the 
Destroyer of Fleets of our 
Enemies 

At a moment when Germany, 
Europe, and the world, are to 
be partitioned and parcelled out 
by French caprice; when the 
feudal system of holding terri- 
tories and domains by military 
tenures is restored by the predo- 
minating policy of the Emperor 
u 2 Napoleon* 



148 



NELSON, LORD. 



Napoleon, at such a moment of 
general interest and emotion, 
the death of our excellent admi- 
ral, by the hand of a previously 
instructed assassin in the shrouds, 
communicated an electric shock 
to the heart- strings of every 
Englishman, and diffused a me- 
lancholy cloud over the back- 
ground of his glorious victory. 
3Ti>e gallant kelson \a no more ! 
A life, every hour of which 
has been marked by honorable 
effort, a glorious life is termi- 
nated, a career of uninterrupted 
victory is closed. 

But as Lord Nelson lived only 
for his country, so may his 
death be productive of impor- 
tant advantages, if ihe principle 
and theory on which he acted 
be properly considered and prac- 
tically enforced 3 they were 
plain, simple, uniform and in- 
telligible to all capacities. 

To take, to burn, to sink, and 
destroy the ships of our enemies, 
was the pride and business of 
his life; in accomplishing this 
purpose he suffered nothing to 
interfere, every consideration of 
personal safety was effaced by 
the blaze of inextinguishable 
courage, death or victory was his 
determined purpose, the certain- 
ty of instant destruction was in 
his eye as dust in the balance. 

By this uncompromising the- 
ory which he so gloriously illus- 



trated, he raised our English 
name to the highest pitch of 
renown ; the ships he took or 
destroyed would form a nume- 
rous fleet; remote countries be- 
held him with admiration, and 
at hearing his name, Napoleon 
has been seen to bite his quiver- 
ing lips, and tremble on his 
throne. 

Such are the glories of our 
naval pre-eminence, purchased 
by the blood of thousands, by 
the mingled tears of widows and 
of orphans, and if England is to 
support a superiority purchased 
at such a price, a superiority 
to which we evidently are indebt- 
ed for independence, domestic 
peace, and other invaluable bles- 
sings, the system of Lord Nel- 
son must be enforced, upheld, 
and improved. 

No difference of numbers, no 
superior weight of metal or 
number or men, must protect the 
squadrons or single ships of 
France, Holland, or Spain, 
from instant attack; at all ha- 
zards and under every circum- 
stance, like that worthy and 
courageous Englishman, the 
gallant captain of the Hindostan, 
naval men roust now remember 
that it is their duty to sacrifice 
themselves and ships to preserve 
their country. 

We must impress deeply and 

in characters of blood, on the 

mind 



NERVOUS AFFECTIONS. 



149 



mind of every French and Spa- 
nish sailor, the moment an En- 
glish ship appears in the offing, 
that whatever his force, hard 
blows will be his portion, and 
that death or captivity wnM be 
the inevitable lot of himself or 
his foe. 

No consideration must be 
allowed to explain away, weaken, 
or evade this paramount law ; if 
we once suffer a quarter deck to 
be converted into a school of 
logic for weighing in a trembling 
balance, the law of probabilities, 
if the great cabin is to be a bet- 
ting room for deciding on the 
doctrine of chances, and for 
looking after and hedging off all 
possible contingencies, the ques- 
tion with France is decided, fur- 
ther expence and toil are useless, 
and it remains only to dispatch 
an envoy at once to Mai Maison 
or St. Cloud, to receive condi- 
tions and submit to them ; — 
then indeed would the shade of 
Hawke complain, and Nel- 
son's ghost walk unrevenged 
amongst us : — sed ni fallor Di 
immortales nobis meliora parant. 
Although the frame of Lord 
Nelson is mouldering to dust, 
the conduct of Admiral Duck- 
worth proves, that the unembo- 
died spirit of the hero of Trafal- 
gar still animates our bosoms. 



NERVOUS AFFECTIONS, 
the terra incognita of hu- 
man knowledge. 

In a former volume of this 
work, an instance is related of a 
French lady of quality, who, 
during a long illness, either 
from delirium or broken sleep, 
was frequently heard to mutter 
a jargon unintelligible to all pre- 
sent : an additiv»nal nurse being 
engaged, this person immedi- 
ately understood the words, and 
pronounced them to be certain 
little songs or hvmns in a viti- 
ated dialect of the French lan- 
guage, spoken in Britanny, of 
which province both the nurse 
and the sick lady were natives; 
but of this gibberish, the lady on 
her recovery was found to be to- 
tally ignorant, and wholly un- 
acquainted with the words which 
she had so repeatedly been heard 
to sing or say. 

Of this unconscious but inde- 
lible impression of what we have 
seen and heard, another exam- 
ple has been recorded, and at- 
tested on the most respectable 
evidence. 

More than forty years ago, 
a gentleman of Reading, in 
Berkshire, discharged his foot- 
man, and having found great 
trouble with what are called com- 
plete servants, who are generally 
useful 



150 



NERVOUS AFFECTIONS. 



useful in their own department, 
but will not stir an inch out of 
it; he resolved to be satisfied 
x with a country lad, and form 
him to his own modes. 

For this purpose he took into 
bis service Joseph Payne, a boy 
fifteen years old, who had lived 
at Lamboume, in the same coun- 
ty, with a farmer, who was a 
quaker of regular life and con- 
versation. 

In the house of this person, 
reading the scriptures and dis- 
coursing on religious subjects 
was the employment of every 
leisure hour; on these occasions 
Joseph was frequently present, 
but this family duty did not pre- 
vent his regular attendance at 
the parish church, as had been 
previously agreed when he was 
hired, a necessary and useful 
precaution, as I know many 
sectaries who make a parade 
about liberality, and expect it in 
others, but refuse this reasonable 
liberty to their own domestics. 

Soon after his residence at 
Reading, his fellow servant was 
very much alarmed by Joseph's 
falling down in a fit; not used 
to such accidents the woman 
ran for assistance, and returning 
with several persons, they were 
struck with surprize to find him 
apparently recovered, sitting on 
the spot where he had fallen, 



and pronouncing a pertinent re- 
ligious discourse. 

Fixed in astonishment they 
waited to see the event ; at the 
end of half an hour he rose, as 
they expressed it, as from a 
trance y or like one awakened 
from sound sleep, and on being 
questioned, solemnly declared 
himself unconscious of what had 
passed, and that he did not 
know a word of what he had 
said. 

The affair being reported to 
the gentleman with whom he 
lived, he directed that the con- 
duct and conversation of the boy 
should be narrowly watched, 
and the persons with whom he 
had intercourse, as it was thought 
he might be made the tool of 
some wild enthusiast, a descrip- 
tion of men very much disliked 
by his master : no circumstance 
occurred to justify this suspicion, 
and Joseph continued at inter- 
vals to be seized in a similar 
way, and before he recovered 
to preach regularly at the con- 
clusion of every paroxysm. 

Dr. Hooper, at that time an 
eminent accoucheur, well known 
in London, was visiting his son 
at Reading, and their curiosity 
being raised by so extraordinary 
a circumstance, they requested 
to be sent for the next time Jo- 
seph had a fit. An opportunity 
soon 



NERVOUS AFFECTIONS. 



151 



soon offered for gratifying the 
doctor's wish, the boy fell down 
in his customary way, (appa- 
rently in what is called an epi- 
lepsy) and the two gentlemen in 
consequence of a message soon 
arrived. 

The patient was just recover- 
ing and commencing his dis- 
course, of which Dr. Hooper's 
son, being a writer of short-hand, 
took an accurate copy, not 
losing or adding a word. 

This singular sermon is pre- 
served ; and I was disposed to 
have presented it to my readers, 
but am told that sermons, ex- 
cept in a few instances, are con- 
sidered by the trade as a very 
unpromising speculation; yet a 
sermon pronounced under such 
circumstances, could not fail 
exciting general curiosity. 

While pronouncing it he sat 
up with great composure, his 
eyes open, but immoveably 
fixed, introducing his discourse 
by a sort of conversation with 
his former neighbours. 

" Will you go to church? it 
is Good Friday, I have asked my 
master to let me go, and though 
he do not held with Saints' 
days himself he has given me 
leave." 

After a few more uncon- 
nected but intelligible sentences, 
he commenced, and the text 
he chose when the doctor at- 



tended was — They led him away 
to crucify him. 

What he said on this occasion 
was sensible, well delivered and 
practical: occasionally holding 
forth his hand, a person present 
held a lighted candle so close as 
to raise a blister ; but he neither 
flinched nor discontinued speak- 
ing. 

As if every circumstance 
should tend to corroborate the 
authenticity of this surprising 
fact, only a few weeks had pas- 
sed, when the farmer with whom 
Joseph had lived, and the clergy- 
man whose church he had for- 
merly frequented, were called by 
business to Reading. 

The boy's new master acci- 
dentally meeting with them, he 
naturally mentioned what had 
happened to his servant ; and 
enquiring if any thing similar 
had ever taken place while he 
resided at Lambourn, was an- 
swered in the negative. The 
travellers mentioning in a cur- 
sory way the inn they were at, 
passed on ; but in the course of 
the evening the maid servant 
was dispatched to say, that if 
they wished to see Joseph's 
uncommon affection, he was 
now seized with a fit. 

They came and saw and 

heard ; after the boy had ceased 

holding forth and was recovered, 

they both took considerable pains 

to 



152 



PERETTI, FELIX. 



to examine him, and from iheir 
previous knowledge, as well of 
his moral character and general 
deportment as of other circum- 
stances, were convinced that he 
had no consciousness, either 
before or after, of what was 
taking place. 

The clergyman remarked, 
that some passages in Joseph's 
discourse nearly resembled in 
tendency and structure one of 
his sermons ; and the quaker ob- 
served that the text given out, 
had been frequently the subject 
of discussion with his own fa- 
mily, in the presence of the 
boy. 

This remarkable affair was 
attested by Dr. Hooper, who 
frequently spoke of it to persons 
now living, and its authenticity 
is further corroborated by the 
boy's master, Captain Fisher, 
for many years an inhabitant 
of Reading, generally respected, 
and probably in the memory of 
some of my readers. 

To remember passages in ser- 
mons and the subjects of con- 
versations, we have heard, in 
early life, with lads of tenacious 
memory, is not uncommon; but 
to utter repeatedly long and con- 
nected harangues, in which ar- 
gument is supported, and exhor- 
tation enforced by reference to 
various passages of scripture, to 
heaven, hell, death, and a future 



judgment, at a moment when 
the sensorium is evidently pa- 
ralysed, and the intellectual 
powers are apparently suspended, 
may afford matter of reflection 
to the minute observers of the 
phcenomena of that miraculous 
machine, called man. 

The article of a former vo- 
lume in which a case somewhat 
resembling this occurs, I could 
not at the commencement of my 
present subject recollect, it is 
Delavaj,; a rapid sketch drawn 
without ill design, but which in- 
volved the editor in a ridiculous 
embarrassment, that would if 
related, create a hearty laugh for 
my readers; but no man is fond 
of relating a story which tells 
against himself. 

The affair might however 
have ended profitably, had he 
chosen to have practiced what 
was once done in a certain work 
of rather more importance than 
his, cancelled a leaf; it was at a 
time too when one of Abraham 
Newland's billet-doux, though 
returnedy would have been very 
useful. 

"OERETTI, FELIX, the son 



jr 



of a peasant at Montaho, a 



village in the Papal territory of 
Ancona, who discovered at an 
early age quick pans and a re- 
tentive memory; but the po- 
verty of his parents obliged them 



PERETTI, FELIX. 



153 



to part with him when only nine 
years old, and he was placed in 
the service of a neighbouring 
farmer. 

In this situation Felix did not 
satisfy his employer; he was 
perpetually finding fault with the 
lad for his unhandiness in hus- 
bandry work, and observing that 
correction served only to aug- 
ment his apparent stupidity, he 
dismissed him from the house, 
the barn, and the stable, to what 
was considered as a more servile 
and degrading species of occu- 
pation ; taking care of a number 
of hogs on an adjoining com- 
mou. 

In this solitary place, deserted 
and forlorn, his back still smart- 
ing with repeated stripes, and 
his eyes overflowing with tears, 
he was surprized by a stranger 
at his elbow, enquiring which 
was the nearest road to Ascoli. 
- This person was a Franciscan, 
who travelling to that place had 
lost his way ; in fact, the poor 
boy was so absorbed in grief 
that he did not perceive any one 
approaching till he heard the 
voice of the friar, who had spoken 
to him several times before he 
could procure an answer. 

Affected by his melancholy 
appearance he naturally asked 
the cause, and received an ac- 
count of his hopeless condition 
related in a strain of good sense 

VOL. IV. 



and vivacity, (for on speaking to 
him he resumed his natural 
cheerfulnes) which surprized the 
holy father when he considered 
his age and wretched appearance. 
"But I must not forget that 
you are going to Ascoli,' ' said 
Felix, starting nimbly from the 
bank on which he was sitting) 
then pointing out the proper 
road, he accompanied the friar, 
who was charmed at finding so 
much untaught politeness in a 
little rustic. 

Considering himself as suf- 
ficiently informed he thanked the 
boy, and would have dismissed 
him with a small present, but he 
still continued running and skip- 
ping before him, till father Mi- 
chael asked in a jocose way, if 
he meant to go with him quite 
to the town. 

" Not only to Ascoli but to 
the end of the world," said Fe- 
lix , unwilling to quit his com- 
panion ; i( Ah, sir," continued 
the lad after a short pause, in a 
tone of voice and with one of 
those looks which make their 
way at once to our hearts, " Ah, 
sir, if you or any other worthy 
gentleman would but get me the 
place of an errand-boy or any 
other employment in a convent, 
however laborious, where I 
could procure a little learning 
and get away from those filthy 
hogs and the owner of them, 
x who 



151 



PERETTI, FELIX. 



who is little better, I would try 
to make myself useful, and 
should be bound to pray for and 
bless you as long as I live." 

" But you would not take the 
habit of a religious order ?" said 
the Franciscan, " Most willing- 
ly !" replied Felix. 

" You are little aware of the 
hardships, the fastings, the toil, 
the watchings, and the labor, 
you would undergo.' ' 

" I would endure the pains of 
purgatory to become a scholar," 
was the boy's singular reply. 

Finding him in earnest, and 
surprized at bis courage and 
resolution, he permitted the strip- 
ling to accompany him to As- 
coli, where he introduced him to 
the society of Cordeliers he was 
going to visit, informing them 
at the same time of the circum- 
stance which first introduced 
him to this new acquaintance. 

The superior sent for the boy, 
put many questions to him, and 
was so well pleased that he im- 
mediately admitted him ; he was 
invested with the habit of a lay- 
brother, and appointed to assist 
the Sacristan in sweeping the 
church and lighting the candles ; 
in return for these and other 
services, he was taught the re- 
sponses and instructed in gram- 
roar. 

In acquiring knowledge, the 
little stranger was found to unite a 



readiness of comprehension with 
unceasing application ; his pro- 
gress was so rapid, that in 1534, 
being then only fourteen years 
old, he entered on his noviciate, 
and after the usual time, was 
admitted to make his profession. 

On taking deacon's orders, he 
preached his first sermon to a 
numerous congregation ; it being 
the feast of the Annunciation, 
when he soon convinced his hear- 
ers, that the man who was in- 
structing them possessed no 
common share of abilities. 

The service being concluded, 
a prelate then present, thanked 
Felix publicly for his discourse, 
encouraged him to persist dili- 
gently in his studies, and con- 
gratulated him, as well as the 
society of which he was a mem- 
ber, on the fairness of his pros- 
pects. 

He was ordained a priest in 
1545, took the degrees of ba- 
chelor and doctor with consider- 
able credit, and being chosen to 
keep a divinity-act before the 
whole chapter of his order, father 
Montalto (that being the name 
he now assumed) distinguished 
himself, that he secured the es- 
teem, and afterwards enjoyed the 
patronage and protection of two 
cardinals, Carpi and Alexandrino. 
The time indeed was come 
when a friend was necessary to 
defend him against the nume- 
rous 



PERETTI, FELIX. 



154 



rous enemies his- acrimonious 
violence had created ; for as 
Montalto advanced to notice and 
celebrity, impetuosity of tem- 
per and impatience of contra- 
diction became prominent fea- 
tures in his character; his air 
and manners were predominating 
and dictatorial. 

At this period of his life, he is 
described (by a contemporary, 
who I suspect had felt his reproof,) 
he is described as one of those 
troublesome people, often men- 
tioned in this collection, who pre- 
suming on what I have called the 
aristocracy of intellect and the 
insolence of good design, fancy 
they can set the world to rights, 
and consider themselves as au- 
thorized to censure without res- 
pect of persons, and to amend 
without regard to consequences, 
whatever they see amiss in 
church or state. 

It cannot be denied that, at 
the time of which I speak, the 
reins of government, ecclesias- 
tical as well as civil, were held 
with a careless and slackened 
hand ; that public and private 
morals were notoriously corrupt 
and profligate, through the 
whole extent of the Papal domi- 
nions; that Rome was a nest 
and a place of refuge for every 
thing base and villainous in 
Italy ; that the roads and even 
the streets of the great city 



could not be passed after night, 
without incurring the danger of 
robbery and murder. 

But men in public stations, 
however culpable their direlic- 
tion of duty, when they recol- 
lected that the present reformer 
of abuse less than twenty years 
before, was a poor peasant, an 
object cf charity and commise- 
ration, they could not prevail on 
themselves to submit to his cen- 
sures, without resistance and 
indignation. But the hour was 
rapidly approaching when Mon- 
talto possessed the power as well 
as inclination, not only to re- 
prove but to punish evil-doers. 

By the interest of Cardinal 
Alexandrino, who saw and un- 
derstood the unbending stern- 
ness of his disposition, he was 
appointed to an office which 
seemed congenial with such a 
temper; Inquisitor General 
at Venice. 

But the unqualified harshness 
of his manners, and the per- 
emptory violence with which he 
executed his duty soon raised a 
storm in that jealous republic, 
and he would have suffered per- 
sonal violence from the enraged 
Venetians, had he not saVe^ 
himself by a precipitate flight. 

A few months after, he visit- 
ed a country sensible of the 
value of such a character, and 
where such zeal was duly appre- 
x %, ciated : 



156 



PERETTI, FELIX. 



ciated : Cardinal Buon-Com- 
pagno, being appointed Legatus 
a latere, in plain English, Am- 
bassador from the Pope to his 
Catholic Majesty, Montalto ac- 
companied him into Spain as his 
chaplain and inquisitorial con- 
suiter. 

In this capacity he was re- 
ceived at Madrid with great 
cordiality, and gave such proofs 
of the warmth of his zeal, that 
on the Cardinal's recal, ecclesi- 
astical honors and preferment 
were repeatedly offered, if he 
would establish himself in that 
country 5 but the palace of the 
Vatican, the city on seven hills, 
' Imperial Rome was the object, 
on which the Shepherd of An- 
cona had fixed an unaverted eye. 

The Legate Buon-Compagno 
had quitted Spain only a few 
hours, when he met a messenger 
dispatched from Rome with 
news of the Pope's death ; this 
was John de Medicis, who 
governed the church almost 
seven years under the title of 
Pius the Fourth. 

Montalto was strongly inte- 
rested in this intelligence, as he 
had every reason to expect that 
his patron Cardinal Alexandrino, 
would be elected Pontiff. 

In this hope he was not dis- 
appointed, and on his arrival at 
Rome, his friend now exalted to 
an ecclesiastic throne, under the 



name of Pius the Fifth, re- 
ceived him with kindness, and 
immediately appointed him ge- 
neral of his order, a post in 
which Montalto did not forget 
to punish those whom he had 
before admonished. 

In less than four years from 
the elevation of Cardinal Alex- 
andrino, he was made a bishop, 
received a competent pension, 
and was ultimately (1570) ad- 
mitted into the college of car- 
dinals, y 

Being now arrived within a 
short distance of the mountain- 
top, which for more than forty 
years he had been arduously 
and laboriously attempting to 
climb, he found a firm and safe 
resting-place on which to place 
his foot. 

It cannot be denied, that his 
reflections on this occasion 
must have been in the highest 
degree solacing and triumphant $ 
from poverty, contempt, and op- 
pression, from a life of labor 
unrequited, and with an ardent 
thirst for knowledge, which 
at a certain time it seemed im- 
possible for him ever to gratify, 
he was suddenly placed at the 
fountain head of learning and 
information ; the treasures of 
antient and modern literature 
were displayed before his eyes, 
he was raised to personal, and 
what was still more flattering, to 
aa 



PERETTI, FELIX. 



157 



an intellectual eminence, which 
was generally acknowledged 
and felt ; he was exalted to a 
post, which in those days placed 
him on an equality with kings. 

But with so many rational 
sources of exultation, with so 
much to hope, there still was 
much to fear; his new associ- 
ates generally speaking, were 
men of talents ; well educated, 
and with the proud blood of the 
Medici, the Caraffa, the Far- 
nese, the Colonna, and the 
Frangipani families, swelling 
their veins ; many of them not 
only of illustrious descent but 
endowed with a considerable 
share of deep political sagacity 
as statesmen; and all alike 
wishing for, yet anxiously con- 
cealing their wishes, to succeed 
to the chair of St. Peter. 

With competitors of this 
description it must be confessed 
that Montalto had a difficult and 
trying part to act. Being con- 
vinced that a severe assuming 
character was not likely to suc- 
ceed, he gradually suppressed 
every angry passion, and art- 
fully disguised the foibles and 
imperfections of his temper 
under a convenient mask of 
mildness, affability, and uncon- 
cern. 

One of his nephews, on a 
ourney to Rome to see his un- 
cle, being murdered, the cardi- 



nal, now a new man, in- 
stead of aiding in the prosecu- 
tion of the offender/ interceded 
for his pardon; he did not en- 
courage visits from his relations, 
several of whom hearing of his 
advancement, repaired to Rome, 
but lodged them at an inn, and 
dismissed them the day after 
their arrival, with an inconside- 
rable present ; strictly charging 
them to return to their families, 
and trouble him no more, for 
that he now found his spiritual 
cares increasing every day, that 
he was dead to his relations and 
the world; but as old age and 
infirmities came on, he perhaps 
might send for one of them to 
wait upon and nurse him. 

On the death of his friend 
Pius the Fifth, he entered the 
conclave with the rest of the 
cardinals, but did not appear to 
interest himself in the election; 
and on being applied to by any 
of the candidates or their friends 
replied, " that the sentiments 
of so obscure and insignificant 
a man as he was, could be of 
no importance; that having 
never before been in a conclave, 
he was fearful of making a false 
step, and left the affair to his 
brethren who were persons of 
great weight and experience, 
and all of them such worthy 
characters, that he was quite 
at a loss which to vote for, and 
wished 



158 



PERETTI, FELIX. 



wished only he had as many 
voices as there were members 
of the sacred college." 

Cardinal Buon-Compagno 
being elected, and having as- 
sumed the name of Gregory the 
Thirteenth, the subject of our 
present article did not forget to 
pay court to him, but soon 
found he was no favorite, hav- 
ing offended his holiness when 
Legate in Spain, by refusing to 
remain at Madrid as he desired. 

Montalto now became a pat- 
. tern of meekness, modesty, and 
humility; he lived frugally in a 
small house, without ostenta- 
tion ; this best species of pru- 
dence and oeconomy, which en- 
abled him to feed the hungry 
and cloath the naked by re- 
trenching his own superfluities, 
procured him the character of a 
friend to the poor 5 he also sub- 
mitted patiently to every species 
of injury or indignity, and was 
remarked for treating his worst 
enemies with tenderness, con- 
descension, and forgiveness. 

In the mean time he had so 
far deceived the majority of the 
cardinals, that they considered 
him, as a poor weak doating old 
fellow, incapable of doing either 
good or harm, and by way of 
ridicule they called him the Ass 
of La Marca; the district 
round Ancona, to a certain ex- 
tent being called, the March of 



Ancona^ An evident alteration 
also took place in the appear- 
ance of his health, he felt or 
affected to feel violent internal 
pains, which not being always 
accompanied with external ap- 
pearances, afford no positive 
proof of the existence of dis- 
ease to the senses, and we are 
generally obliged to take the 
word of those who say they feel 
them. 

He applied for advice to me- 
dical men in various quarters ot 
the city, describing what he felt, 
which, having secretly gathered 
the information from books, 
they described as alarming, 
symptoms produced by causey 
which in all probability would 
shorten his days ; public prayers 
were offered up for his recovery, 
and the intercession of all de- 
vout christians and good men 
earnestly requested. 

At intervals he would appear 
in a slate of convalescence, but 
considerably changed ; of a pale 
countenance, thin, bent-in body, 
and leaning painfully on his 
staff} by a few persons who 
suspected the duplicity of his 
conduct, these untoward ap- 
pearances were said to be pro- 
duced by the frequent use of 
nauseating medicines, noctur- 
nal watchings, and rigid absti- 
nence. 

But with all his apparent suf- 
ferings, 



PERETTI, FELIX. 



159 



ferings, and affected indiffe- 
rence to public men and public 
measures, his eyes and ears 
were open and intent oh every 
transaction, public as well as 
private ; by means of apt emis- 
saries, many of whom were do- 
mestics with cardinals and am- 
bassadors, he made himself ac- 
quainted with every event either 
directly or remotely connected 
with his ambitious views. 

Considering auricular confes- 
sion as a convenient instrument 
to forward political intrigue, 
and his reputation as a learned 
divine being firmly established, 
he attended whenever his health 
would pei'mit, to hear confes- 
sions, and was resorted to by 
crowds of all ranks. 

In this post he procured great 
help towards his aggrandize- 
ment, and is said to have ex- 
tr acted secrets, on which he 
afterwards grounded many ju- 
dicial punishments. 

At this propitious moment, 
(1585) and at a time when the 
college of cardinals was torn by 
opposite interests, and divided 
by contending factions, at this 
auspicious moment died Gre- 
gory the Thirteenth. 

Montalto accompanied the 
cardinals into the conclave, and 
immediately shutting himself in 
his chamber, was scarcely spo- 
ken to, or thought of 5 jf at 



any time it was necessary as a 
matter of form, or for the pur^ 
pose of calculating numbers to 
consult him ; his door was found 
fast, and a message was sent that 
he would wait on their eminent 
ces, the moment his coughing 
and violent pain were abated ; 
but earnestly intreated them to> 
proceed to business, as the pre- 
sence of so insignificant a person 
as himself could not be neces-" 
sary, and he hoped they would 
not disturb a man sinking under 
disease, whose thoughts were 
placed on another world. 

At the end of fourteen days, 
three powerful parties, each of 
whom had considered themselves 
as certain of choosing their own 
Pope, found their views defeated 
in consequence of the votes; 
being equally divided. 

Impatient of delay, and hop- 
ing that a vacancy would soon 
take place if they elected the 
old ass of La Marca, whom 
every man thought he could 
manage as he pleased, they 
unanimously concurred in elect- 
ing him. 

The moment he was chosen, 
Montalto threw away the staff 
on which he had hitherto sup- 
ported himself, then suddenly 
raising his head and expanding 
his chest, he surprized every 
one present by appearing at least 
a foot taller/, 

Coming 



160 



PERETTI, FELIX. 



Coming forward with a firm 
step, an erect: and dignified air, 
he thanked them for the high 
honor they had conferred upon 
him, the duties of which with 
God's good grace, he would to 
the utmost of his power consci- 
entiously perform. 

As he passed from the con- 
clave, the people exclaimed, 
" Long live the Pope; 
Plenty, holy Father, 
Plenty, Justice, and large 
Loaves." " Pray to God for 
plenty, and J will give you just- 
ice" was his answer. 

Impatient to exercise the 
rights of sovereignty, he ordered 
his triple crown to be immedi- 
ately produced, and placed it on 
a velvet cushion in the room 
where he sat; he was also desi- 
rous of being immediately 
crowned and enthroned ; but 
being informed that his authority 
and prerogatives were in every 
respect as firmly established and 
as extensive before as after the 
ceremony of coronation, he re- 
luctantly consented to a short de- 
lay for the necessary preparations. 

The humility and complais- 
ance he had for so many years 
assumed, immediately vanished ; 
those predominating passions 
which had been suppressed by 
interested views and political 
dissimulation, regained their as- 
cendency and burst forth with 



augmented fury. So great an 
alteration in his conduct and 
manners as well as health was a 
bitter disappointment to those 
cardinals, who, to serve their 
own purposes had assisted in the 
elevation of Montalto, who 
now assumed the name of Pope 
Sixtus the Fifth. 

It was not merely his refus- 
ing them the least share or ap- 
pearance of authority, it was 
not only the loss of patronage 
and influence they had to la- 
ment, but the mortification of 
being over-reached and defeated 
by the old man who for more 
than fourteen years had been the 
object of their ridicule and con- 
tempt; he had met them on 
their own ground, and con- 
quered them with their 'own 
weapons. 

If at any time they hesitated 
in concurring with the vigorous 
and salutary measures of his 
government, and ventured to 
expostulate and represent the in- 
consistence of his present acti- 
vity with his former conduct 
and professions, he instantly 
silenced them and observed 
t€ that feeling himself much 
improved in health and spirits, 
he was able by God's assistance, 
and would endeavour to govern 
the church without their help or 
advice ; that he was their sove- 
reign, and would be obeved." 

The 



PERETTI, FELIX. 



J6l 



The day before his coronation, 
the governor of Rome and the 
keeper of the castle of St. An- 
gelo waited on Sixtus to in- 
form him, that it had been the 
custom for every new Pope to 
grant an universal jail delivery, 
and a free pardon to all offend- 
ers ; they wished to know his 
pleasure. 

He eagerly asked far a list of 
the malefactors in custody ; 
they gave him a paper filled with 
names, as on these occasions, 
expecting what would take place ; 
the prisons were crowded with 
a number of miscreants, wh© in 
consequence of murder, rob- 
bery, and other crimes, had the 
sword' of the law hanging over 
their heads. 

By surrendering themselves 
they all hoped and expected, ac- 
cording to long established cus- 
tom, to procure indemnity for 
past offences, • and security, on 
being released, for persevering in 
their criminal courses. 

" Mercy on us," exclaimed 
his holiness, " what a nest of 
villains have we here; but are 
you not aware, Mr. Governor, 
and you, Mr. Jailer, of the glar- 
ing impropriety of your conduct 
in pretending to talk of pardons 
and acts of grace ; leave such 
matters to your sovereign. De- 
pending on your never repeating 
this impertinent interfeiUnce 

VOL. IV. 



with my powers and preroga- 
tives, I for once will pardon it, 
but instantly go back to your 
charge, and see that good care 
be taken of those you have in 
prison, for as I hold my trust 
from God, if one of your pri- 
soners escape, I will hang you 
on the highest gibbet I can 
procure. 

" It was not to protect de- 
linquents, and encourage sin- 
ners that Divine Providence 
placed me in the chair of St. 
Peter; to pardon men noto- 
riously AND FLAGRANTLY 
WICKED, WHO GLORY IN THEIR 
CRIMES, AND ONLY WAIT FOR 
LIBERTY THAT THEY MAY 
AGAIN PRACTISE THEIR ENOR- 
MITIES, WOULD BE TO SHARE 
THEIR GUILT. 

" I see you have four crimi- 
nals under sentence of death for 
abominable crimes, and in whose 
favor I have applications and pe- 
titions from all quarters ; their 
friends I have no doubt think 
they are doing right, but I must 
not forget my duty. 

" It is therefore my pleasure/' 
continued Sixtus, in an -elevated 
tone, and with a severe look, 
" it is my will and pleasure that 
to-morrow, at the hour of my 
coronation, two of them suffer 
by the ax, and two by the halter, 
in different quarters of the city; 
we shall then do an act of jus - 
Y tice 



162 



PERETTI, FELIX. 



tice pleasing to the Almighty, 
and take off many of those idle 
and disorderly people who at 
public ceremonies, generally oc- 
casion so much riot and con- 
fusion." 

His orders on this occasion 
were literally obeyed. 

The day after the ceremony, 
many of the nobility and gentry 
waited on the Pope, to congra- 
tulate him, but he said, " his 
was a post of toil and duty, that 
he had not time for compliment" 
and with these words he was on 
the point of retiring, but a mas- 
ter of the ceremonies informed 
him that a crowd of cardinals, 
nobles, ambassadors, senators 
and wealthy citizens demanded 
an audience. 

The greater part of them hav- 
ing relations, friends or depen- 
dents, who, in consequence of 
their crimes, had fled from jus- 
tice, and joined banditti, but 
had lately surrendered them- 
selves on the prospect and pro- 
bability of a general and univer- 
sal liberation ; • their expecta- 
tions in this respect were disap- 
pointed, as the Pope had posi- 
tively declared, that not a single 
offender should be pardoned. 

The deputation represented to 
Sixtus- in strong language the 
indecency of so sanguinary a 
proceeding, at a season which 
had been generally devoted to 



mirth and rejoicing, and were 
proceeding to produce further ar- 
guments, in the hope of prevailing 
on him to retract his resolution. 

But the person they addressed 
could restrain himself no longer ; 
commanding silence on pain of 
his displeasure, he thus addres- 
sed them with angry looks and 
in a loud voice : 

" I am surprized at the inso- 
lence of your representations, 
and your apparent ignorance of 
the obedience which ought in 
all cases to be paid to the orders 
of a sovereign prince. When 
the government of our holy 
church was committed to Saint 
Peter by Christ, it surely was 
not his design that the succes- 
sors of the holy apostle should 
be tutored and directed by their 
subjects. 

" But, if you do not or will not 
know your duty, I am resolved to 
practice mine ; I hope and trust 
that I shall not, like my prede- 
cessors, suffer law and justice to 
sleep : by which means the ec- 
clesiastical states have been ren- 
dered, and are notoriously be- 
come the most debauched, and 
in every respect the wickedest 
spot on the surface of the globe ; 
a by-word to the scorner and 
the heretic, a reproach to the 
faith we profess. 

" Retire, (raising his arm and 

voice as he repeated the word, 

seeing 



PERETTI, FELIX. 



163 



seeing that the cardinals did not 
appear to move,) retire, and 
instead of wishing to obstruct 
law and justice, endeavour to 
co-operate with me in cleansing 
this filthy Augean stable ; for, 
as to the criminals in question, 
no motive of any kind shall ever 
induce me to pardon one of 
them : each offender shall un- 
dergo without fear, favour, par- 
tiality, or resentment, the pu- 
nishment attached by law to the 
crime he has committed, and I 
shall make ftrict enquiry after all 
those who have patronised and 
encouraged them, whom I can- 
not but consider as participators 
in their guilt, and will also pu- 
nish. The different prisoners 
suffered* the sentence of the law ; 
they departed in silent dismay, 
and a few months after, as his 
Holiness was repairing to St. 
Peter's, on the day of a public 
festival, a crowd, as was custo- 
mary, assembled, to see him 
pass; the people on this occa- 
sion were so numerous and pres- 
sed so closely that the Swiss 
Guards, who always attend the 
Pope were under the necessity of 
making way with their halberds. 
Among the multitude, there 
happened unfortunately to be the 
son of a Spanish Grandee, who 
having arrived only that morn- 
, ing at Rome, had not time nor 
opportunity to secure an unmo- 



lested spot for viewing the pro- 
cession. 

This gentleman, standing fore- 
most, was pushed back some- 
what rudely; the enraged Spa- 
niard, following the poor Swiss 
into the church, murdered him 
as he fell on his knees at the foot 
of the altar, and endeavoured to 
fly for refuge to the house of the 
Spanish ambassador; he was 
pursued by two comrades of the 
deceased and taken into cus- 
tody. 

Intelligence of this barbarous 
and sacrilegious act quickly 
reached the ears of Sixtus. Afc- 
ter the service of the day was 
concluded, the governor of Rome 
also waited on his Holiness, as 
he was going to his coach, to 
know his pleasure, and wait for 
instructions how to proceed. 

" Well/ Sir," said Sixtus, 
" and what do you think ought 
to be done in a case of flagrant 
murder, thus committed before 
my face, and in the house of 
God? iC I have given orders" 
said the officer, " for informa- 
tions being taken, and a process 
being commenced." i( A pro- 
cess" replied the Pope, " what 
occasion can there be for process, 
in a crime like this committed 
before hundreds of witnesses? 

" I thought your . Holiness 
would choose to observe due 
orm of law" answered the go- 
y 2 vernor, 



164 



PERETTI, FELIX. 



vernor, ee particularly in this in- 
stance^ as the criminal is the 
only son of a person of conside- 
ration, in high favour with his 
Catholic Majesty, and under the 
protection of his ambassador" 
(e Say not a word to me of 
consideration and protection ; 

CRIME LEVELS EVERY DIS- 
TINCTION, his rank and educa- 
tion should have taught him bet- 
ter, It is our pleasure that he 
shall be hanged before we sit 
down to dinner." 

The trial of the prisoner being 
soon gone through, and a gal- 
lows erected in the interval, on. a 
spot where the Pope could see it 
from the saloon in which he was 
sitting, he did not quit the apart- 
ment till he saw the Spaniard 
brought forth and suspended; 
he then retired from the window 
and went to dinner, repeating 
with a loud voice a favorite pas- 
sage from the psalms 3 — -" I 
shall soon destroy all the un- 
godly in the land, and root out 
evil doers from the city of the 
Lord." 

Such was the conduct of the 
little peasant of Ancona when 
elevated to supreme power ; he 
became a rigid but impartial 
censor of public defaulters and 
private transgressors; he ordered 
the public functionaries through- 
out his dominions to send him, 
each of them, a list of every 



person in their neighbourhood 
who was notorious for debauch- 
ery, drunkenness, or other vicious 
habits; first, inquiring into the 
truth of their information, he sent 
for and privately reproved them ; 
but if this warning was not attend- 
ed to, he severely punished the 
offender. Having deeply impres- 
sed a conviction of his inexora- 
ble regard to justice, persons ex- 
ercising authority under him per- 
formed the duties with scrupu- 
lous exactness. 

The various remarkable in- 
stances in which this extraordi- 
nary man exerted his power in 
suppressing vicious enormity 
would, if introduced in this 
place, extend our present article 
to a length inconsistent with the 
nature of this collection. 

With respect to women, a 
violation of their chastity, by 
force or by fraud, with or against 
their consent, he never pardoned ; 
and even a slight deviation from 
public decorum did not go un- 
punished; a subsequent marriage, 
on either of thefe occasions, he 
did not consider as a satisfac- 
tion to justice. 

This delicacy so scrupulously 
severe, he carried to an excess in 
many instances, inconsistent with 
human infirmity ; the wishes 
and often the happiness of the 
injured woman ; who in Several 
instances had their husbands torn 
from 



PEREtTI, FELIX. 



163 



from their embraces and com- 
mitted to the gallies for follies 
and indiscretions committed be- 
fore marriage, in the furious 
licentiousness of stimulating 
passion. 

He determined to put a stop 
to a depraved custom then gene- 
rally prevalent in his dominions 
among the elevated and wealthy 
classes of society, that of mar- 
rying a mistress to a dependent, 
for the purpose of procuring an 
ostensible parent for their illegiti- 
mate offspring, and carrying on 
securely an adulterous intercourse. 

The first example of this 
kind was that of a person from 
whom his Holiness had ex- 
perienced many acts of kind- 
ness, before he was created 
a cardinal. After a momen- 
tary struggle, he sent for his 
former friend privately, and 
warmly censuring him for his 
conduct, he warned him of the 
consequence of persevering in the 
unlawful connexion ; and assured 
him that his duty as a magis- 
trate was paramouut to his feel- 
ings as a friend, and advised him 
either to remove the female, or 
to quit his dominions. A few 
months after, Sixtus ordered se- 
cret spies to watch the parties, 
and finding that the person he 
had reproved still "continued the 
criminal attachment, probably 
presuming on the indulgence of 



former friendship, he ordered 
the offender, the husband and 
wife to be hanged without de- 
lay ; three domestics acquainted 
with the illicit proceeding, he 
ordered to be publicly whipped, 
for not giving information. 

It had been usual for the peo- 
ple to exclaim (i Long live the 
Pope" whenever he passed, but 
finding that this mode of accla- 
mation prevented his dropping 
in unexpectedly, at the courts of 
justice, and public offices, he 
forbad the custom: on two un- 
lucky rogues who from obstinacy 
or inadvertency disobeyed this 
injunction, he ordered the stra- 
pado to be inflicted immediately 
on the spot : this effectually pre- 
vented a repetition. 

Assassinations and duels had 
disgraced the reigns of all his 
predecessors, and rendered Rome 
and Italy unsafe. 

To arrest, and if possible, re* 
move an evil productive of pub- 
lic danger and private distress, 
he published an edict, forbidding 
on pain of death, any persons 
whatever their rank, drawing a 
sword, or even having in their 
possession any instrument of 
death as they passed the streets, 
except his own magistrates and 
officers. By-standers who did 
not prevent, and seconds who 
encouraged duelling he sent in- ; 
stantly to the gallies. A few- 
instances 



166 



PERETTI, FELIX. 



instances of rigid severity effec- 
tually removed the grievance. 

Any thing like revenge or 
bearing malice he would not en- 
dure. A barber quarrelling with 
one of his neighbours, held up 
his hand in a threatening man- 
ner, and with a significant mo- 
tion of his head, had been heard 
to say, " If ever he comes under 
my hands, I will do his busi- 
ness" This being repeated to the 
Pontiff, he ordered the speaker 
of the obnoxious words to be 
taken into custody, then direct- 
ing all the barbers in Rome to 
be collected in one of the 
squares, the offender underwent 
a long and severe whipping be- 
fore them. 

His Holiness observing that 
tradesmen suffered seriously, and 
often became bankrupts in con- 
sequence of long credit and bad 
pay, to the great injury of com- 
merce, and frequently of the 
public revenue, he quickly pro- 
duced an important reformation 
on a point which loudly calls 
for amendment in Great Eritain 
and Ireland. 

A hint to his officers that he 
wished to collect information on 
the subject was sufficient. A 
tradesman in all probability pre- 
viously instructed made com- 
plaint that having applied to a 
person of distinction for payment 



of a debt which had been long 
due, and of which he stood in 
urgent need, the debtor had 
violently resented it, withdrawn 
his own custom from the poor 
man's shop, and persuaded many 
others to do the like, telling the 
person he injured in an insolent 
manner, that gentlemen paid their 
debts only when they pleased, 

Sixtus sent for both parties, 
ordered the money to be instantly 
paid, with interest from the time 
of its being due, and committed 
the fraudulent debtor to prison. 

At the same time, a procla- 
mation was issued, directing all 
the merchants and tradesmen to 
send his Holiness a list of their 
book debts, With the names of 
those from whom the money 
was due; he directly paid the 
whole, taking the debts on him- 
self, which in consequence of 
the general alarm, were quickly 
discharged. 

It is scarcely necessary to ob- 
serve that the subject of my pre- 
sent article exercised a rigid and 
inexorable despotism ; but ex- 
erting it in most instances with 
impartial justice, and for salu- 
tary purposes, his power was 
submitted to with less reluc- 
tance : he is called by a writer 
of that period a terror and a 
scourge; but it was to evil doers^ 
to the profligate, the incorri- 
gible, 



PERETTI, FELIX. 



167 



gible, and the corrupt. Most 
rational men I believe would pre- 
fer living under an absolute mo- 
narch of such a cast than under 
the easy sway of a lax moralist, 
a generous libertine, or one of 
those devilish good kind of fol- 
lows who are commonly described 
as no man's enemy but their 
own; a character which cannot 
exist ', as it is impossible he can 
be a friend to others who is in a 
state of constant hostility with 
himself At all events, the 
great interests of society, public 
happiness and private peace are 
most effectually preserved by a 
prince like Montalto. 

In his transactions with fo- 
reign princes, Sixtus uniformly 
preserved a dignified firmness, 
from which he never relaxed. 
Very early in his reign, he was 
involved in a dispute with Philip 
the Second, King of Spain ; who 
though the most superstitious of 
bigots to the Catholic faith, was 
a constant object of the Pope's 
hostility, while the heretic Eli- 
zabeth, Queen of England, was 
a character he warmly admired, 
and never mentioned without 
enthusiastic admiration. 

Speaking of her on a certain 
occasion, to an English Catholic 
who visited Rome, he observed, 
cc a Queen like your's deserves 
to reign ; she governs her king- 
dom with energy and wisdom ; 



respected abroad, and loved or 
feared at home, her subjects en- 
joy the benefits of a vigorous 
and successful administration. 
If such a woman were to become 
my wife, we might people the ' 
world with a race of Scipios, 
Caesars, and Alexanders. " 

Yet in his public capacity, as 
head of the Catholic Church, he 
found it necessary to publish a 
bull of excommunication against 
Elizabeth when Philip meditated 
an invasion of England with his 
invincible Spanish armada. 

At the same time, he pri- 
vately informed her of the pro- 
ceedings and intrigues of Philip 
against her, earnestly recom- 
mending her JV^ajesty to prepare 
for a vigorous defence. 

The subsequent defeat and 
disappointment of the Spanish 
King in this attempt commenced 
with so much threatening arro- 
gance and carried on at so enor- 
mous an expence is known to 
most readers, and was highly 
gratifying to Sixtus. 

The imprisonment and execu- 
tion of Mary Queen of Scots, an 
event which produced a strong 
and universal sensation through 
Europe, has in modern times 
excited a long and animated con- 
troversy. Various have been the 
opinions on the justice of Eliza- 
beth's proceeding: and the edi- 
tor of this collection by defend- 
ing 



168 



PERRTCT, FELIX. 



ing the Oueen of England on 
the plea of political necessity, 
has incurred the resentments of 
a venerable and patriotic Cale- 
donian, who occasionally ho- 
nors these pages with a perusal. 

As weak states in contests of 
a more important kind find it 
necessary sometimes to call in 
the aid of powerful allies, I may 
be permitted to observe that the 
Pontiff Sixtus was often heard to 
say " Had I been King of 
England, I would have acted 
precisely in the same manner." 

When he was first informed 
that the unfortunate Mary was 
beheaded, he rose suddenly from 
his seat, and traversed the apart- 
ment in much apparent agita- 
tion, but not the agitation of re- 
gret ; for throwing himself into 
his chair, he exclaimed, iS O 
happy Oueen of England, how 
much art thou to be envied, who 
hast been found worthy of seeing 
a crowned head prostrate at thy 
feet." 

These words were evidently 
spoken with reference to Philip, 
King of Spain, whose name was 
never mentioned in his presence 
without producing angry looks. 

Sixtus could never submit 
with patience to a ceremony an- 
nually performed by the Spanish 
ambassador; this was the pre- 
senting a Genet to his Holiness, 
by way of acknowledgment that 



his master held the kingdom of 
Naples of the Pope. 

On one of these occasions, 
rising hastily from his throne, 
he said, in a loud voice, to Count 
Olivarez, " our predecessors 
must certainly have been in a 
very complaisant mood, when 
they agreed to accept from your 
master's ancestors a poor pitiful 
hack, in return for a rich and 
flourishing kingdom. I hope 
soon to put an end to this mum- 
mery, and to visit the citizens of 
Naples as their lawful Sove- 
reign.' ' 

But circumstance and situa- 
tion were not favourable to his 
executing this purpose, which 
was the fond wish of his heart. 

Such was Sixtus the Fifth, 
who directed the officers of his 
palace to give audience on every 
occasion to the poorest man in 
his dominions; who listened 
with condescension to the un- 
fortunate, the widow, and the 
orphan, but punished with in- 
exorable severity criminal delin- 
quency, respecting neither per- 
son, rank, nor wealth; who was 
moderate in his enjoyments, of 
pure morals, and correct in pri- 
vate life. The revenues of the 
state almost annihilated by the 
rapacious anticipation of his pre- 
decessors, he restored to more 
than double their former nomi- 
nal amount. In the public trea- 
sury, 



PARTY POETRY. 



16$ 



sury which was exhausted at 
th-? time of his election, his suc- 
cessor found five millions in 
gold ; his personal expenses 
were trifling, but his private 
charities amounted every year 
to a considerable sum ; on these 
occasions he sought for and ge- 
nerally found patient, meek, and 
unassuming merit, struggling 
with adversity ; the perverse im- 
portunate mendicant who begged 
by day and thieved at night, he 
ordered out of the city with re- 
proof and frequently with 
flripes ; so salutary were his 
edicts, and so undeviating and 
rigid the impartiality with which 
he inforced them, that his 
judges and police officers con- 
fessed that their places were be- 
come sinecures. Sich was Six- 
tus the fifth, who if the quali- 
ties I describe are the first and 
most indispensable duties of a 
monarch, deserves to be classed 
with the first and most glorious 
of kings, and to be numbered 
with the greatest benefactors of 
mankind. 

He was deficient it muft be 
confessed in the mild acts of 
gentle persuasion, he was a 
stranger to the suaviter in modo ; 
but to such a pitch was the 
wickedness and enormity of his 
subjects arrived, that a governor 
of a mild character would have 
been disobeyed and despised. 

VOL. IV. 



But he possessed a qualifica- 
tion more essential and exactly 
calculated for the times in which 
he lived, the fortiter in re ; an 
eagle-eyed acuteness to search 
after and to see criminality and 
fraud however concealed or dis- 
guised, together with unabating 
energy and unconquerable reso- 
lution to resist and punish them. 

I Conclude this hasty narrative, 
already too much extended, with 
one observation. 

In an article of this collection 
assigned to an eminent senator 
and an accomplished statesman, 
I observed, that if he had been 
a plough-boy or a shepherd, he 
would have turned the best fur- 
row, and have reared the best 
flock in his hamlet. 

But this observation will not 
apply to Felix Peretti, who if 
the Franciscan friar had not 
fortunately missed his road to 
Asioli, in all human probability, 
would either have been beaten 
into incorrigible stupidity and 
despair, have been driven to 
flight, evil courses, and an igno- 
minious death, or have lived and 
died in ignorance, indigence, 
and obscurity. 

PARTY POETRY, and Po- 
litical Misrepresentation. 
Most of my readers must recol- 
lect, that at the period of the 
French Revolution, or soon af- 
z ter, 



170 



PARTY POETRY. 



ter, a very wide difference in 
opinions was observed, on that 
subject among the principal 
gentlemen who at that period 
conducted opposition measures 
in the House of Commons ; 
more particularly between the 
late Mr. Edmund Burke and 
Mr. Sheridan. 

This occasion did not escape 
the notice of a certain quick- 
sighted man of rhyme, who 
wished the public to believe that 
offers were immediately made to 
the member for Stafford, in the 
hope of prevailing on him to 
join the servants of the crown ; 
the business of the poem was to 
describe the struggles which 
would naturally take place in 
Mr. Sheridan's breast, before he 
replied to the ministerial appli- 
cation. 

The person, supposed to be 
sent to try the powers of persua- 
sion, was a gentleman well known 
at that period, and no stranger 
to the business of gaining pro- 
selytes ; he had long enjoyed a 
profitable and confidential post 
under Lord North, but deserted 
him at an early period after that 
noble lord's retirement from 
office, and joined Mr. Pitt ; this 
was Mr. John, but better known 
by the more familiar appellation 
of Jack Robinson. 
A jackall he, by one and all 
agreed on, 



Who sought out prey for Lyon 
Pitt to feed on. 

In the present instance he 
proves unsuccessful, and return- 
ing with the unwelcome tidings 
to his employers, 

The loy was angry, Boggy felt 

surprize, 
For once Leeds frown'd, and 

Thurlow damn'd his eyes. 

An author, at that time, in 
habits of intimacy with Mr. 
Sheridan, is next sent to Bruton- 
street, where he then lived ; in 
his way, the great house at the 
opposite corner does not escape 
observation. 

The bard that passage tried with 

steps so light, 
Which, like Lord Lansdown's 

ways, is out of sight ; 
And as he pass'd, the ruling 

Marquis sees, 
Who thus address'd him from 

among his trees. 
" I'm vex'd for Burke, and 

Sheridan in troth, 
Pray when you see them, say I 

love 'em both, 
Or Ins or Outs none hostile 

me can call, 
I have a promise, nod, and smile 

for all ; 
With me and Jekyll you could 
snugly sit, 

Supreme 



PARTY POETRY. 



i7l 



Supreme in verse, law, politics, 

and wit." 
The poet bow'd, but keeping on 

his road, 
He soon arriv'd at Sheridan's 

abode. 
Far in a deep saloon he found 

him plac'd, 
So oft by worth, by wit and 

beauty grae'd : 
Care rough 'd his brow, and sor- 
row wrung his heart, 
While thus the bard made essay 

of his art. 

A conversation is now sup- 
posed to take place, during 
which little prospect of success 
appears; night approaches ; and 
the distinguished personages who 
had sent the messenger, feel so 
much anxiety, that the Premier 
and several members of Admi- 
nistration determine at length to 
repair to Bruton-street themselves. 

But as he spoke the blazing 

flambeaux glar'd, 
The porter wonderM and the 

footman star'd ; 
While through the hall, the 

thund'ring knockers roar, 
And Pitt's great name the 

liv'ned vassals bore. 

The Chancellor of the Exche- 
quer being introduced ; 

With looks important and a 
solemn bend, 



He thus began a speech he just 

had penn'd. 
<e At other times and places 

have we sat 
In verbal storm to guide the 

long debate, 
But now I trust those hateful 

deeds are o'er, 
And we shall meet, as deadly 

foes, no more. 
Whate'er you hope, you wish 

for, Sir, or want, 
Speak but the word, and we'll 

profusely grant. 
Whether in Eastern climes, the 

golden spoil, 
Or Ireland's sceptre shall reward 

your toil, 
Whether a peer like Auckland 

you wou'd be, 
And live at kome, upon an em- 
bassy ; 
Or if my brother's place you'd 

rather have, 
His strong pretensions he shall 

quickly waive ; 
Grant but this wish, this one 

request fulfil, 
Spare my finance and poor 

Tobacco bill." 
He more had spoke, but Thur- 

low enter'd next, 
With spleen and gout, and Pep- 
per Arden vex'd : 
w I'll to the point, at once, 

without more fuss ; 
God dam 'e, Sheridan, be one 

of us ; 

z 2 Aided 



172 



PARTY POETRY. 



Aided by you, at council I may 

sit, 
No longer manag'd by Dundas 

and Pitt. 
Come, 'tis a bargain, when new 

feats you'd try, 
I'll teach in speech, a figure 

new, to cry ; 
Its powers are great, when argu- 
ments are bare, 
There's pow'rful rhet'ric in a 

well-tim'd tear, 
I think that Pitt with all his 

modest brag, 
Intrigues with Schwellenbergen, 

ugly hag ; 
For I have seen her cast a leer- 
ing eye, 
And jook so liq'rish as he passes 

by; 
She, though she's ancient, shri- 

vell'd, and uncouth, 
Has in her mouth, one scraggy 

long colt's tooth ; 
With which she feasts on Billy's 

maiden airs, 
Before she'll, let him pass the 
closet stairs. 

A character follows, which 
affords a remarkable instance of 
unfounded assertion, poetical li- 
cence, and what may be called 
figurative accusation. 

The party laugh'd, when straight 

along the hall, 
A man who's hated, but who's 

fear'd by all ; 



Whilst many an heir his; 

wretched sires deplore, 
Plunder'd and exil d to a foreign 

shore ; 
With each low art that vulgar 

souls employ, 
The drunken riot and the sen- 
sual joy 
The well-cogg'd die, the wily 

sharper's trick, 
By blows disgrac'd and many an 

angry kick. 
With no one honourable art of 

life, 
A murder*d sister, prostituted 

wife, 
Was usher'd in 

The man here described, and 
easily recognized, never had a 
lawful wife ; as his was the pas- 
sive spouse of all the town, 
there could be no violation of 
the public bed. 

With respect to the darker 
and more alarming part of the 
charge, my readers who may 
expect to be told of daggers, 
cords, and poisoned bowls, will 
hear with surprize that the mur- 
dered sister, died many years 
ago at the Bristol Hot- Wells, 
consumptive; her death being 
hastened, as was generally sup- 
posed, by the conduct of her 
brother, whose vices and propen- 
sity to gaming had dissipated 
his own fortune and part of 
hers. 

Surprized 



PARTY POETRY. 



173 



Surprized and shocked at 
being called a murderer, in this 
public way, he called on the 
man of rhyme to explain ; ob- 
serving, in his usual jocose way, 
for he can be a very pleasant 
companion, " that augmenting, 
rather than diminishing the 
number of his majesty's sub- 
jects, had been the great evil of 
his life. 

Tkis figurative mode of knock- 
ing people in the head, has in 
two recent instances, involved 
the persons who adopted such 
language in embarrassment. 

In the heat of wine, or the 
irritation of bad luck, at a 
house, not far from the Hay- 
market, one gentleman accused 
another of having attempted his 
life; general surprize, violent 
language, and a meeting «f 
course took place. 

After both parties had fired, 
aud the supposed assassin had 
been slightly wounded, his accu- 
ser made a pause and said, 
" Now I will prove my words ;*' 
(for no man of spirit would be 
so dastardly as to think of ex- 
plaining before he fought) 
" Now I will prove my words." 
Saying this, he drew from his 
pocket, a volume of a certain 
periodic publication, which it 
was known that his antagonist 
conducted; opening a part of 
the book, which had been previ- 



ously folded down, he produced 
a biographical sketch of himself, 
written by his opponent ; thus 
proving to the satisfaction of all 
present, the correctness of his 
original assertion, that the gen- 
tleman had made an attempt on 
his life : a hearty lau^h ensued, 
a bandage was applied to the 
wounded arm, the duellists 
shook hands, and the business 
concluded with a chearful break- 
fast. 

The second instance was more 
serious, and accompanied w ith 
some curious circumstances. 

On a very particular occasion, 
and in a large room crowded 
with company, a gentleman 
present was accused of having 
murdered his father ; not satis- 
fied with merely saying this, 
the utterer of these words 
mounted the table, and stimula- 
ted by party fury, personal dis- 
like, or the fumes of wine, re- 
peated them in a loud voice, 
and with a significant gesture; 
in spite of the efforts of friends 
and enemies, who vainly at- 
tempted to drag down the orator 
from his elevated post. 

The gentleman traduced, not- 
withstanding the venial levities 
of early life, being a worthy 
man, and much respected by 
the greater part of the company, 
this violent attack produced a 
strong sensation, and the matter 
aft§r 



174 



PARTY POETRY. 



after the usual legal process, was 
long and ably argued in a court 
of law. 

The barrister employed by the 
defendant, first pleaded intoxica- 
tion as extenuating the offence, 
to which a learned judge re- 
plied, that he who wilfully de- 
prives himself of reason, in the 
hope of being able to do mis- 
chief without punishment, ad- 
ded considerably to his crimi- 
nality. 

The dexterous advocate then 
shifted to ground he thought 
more tenable, figurative lan- 
guage ; but it sunk beneath his 
feet. 

He endeavoured to prove, that 
by the words made use of, no 
actual corporal assault or ma- 
nual violence was meant by his 
client, who wish'd to hint only, 
in a gentle ivay, that the plaintiff 
in this case, by his gay manners, 
and dissipated life, had given his 
father great anxiety, which aug- 
menting disease, and adding 
new pressure to infirmity, 
brought his grey hairs in sorrow 
to the grave. 

The jury, an assemblage of the 
most respectable, intelligent, and 
cool enquirers, I ever witnessed, 
being of a different opinion, 
gave a verdict for the plaintiff, 
with heavy damages ; their de- 
termination, after several at- 
tempts to quash or .set it aside 



met with the general concur- 
rence of public opinion, and 
was, at length, irrevocably es- 
tablished. 

But we have almost forgot 
the poem which was the original 
subject of this article ; the 
speaker last introduced, after 
exerting his powers in persua- 
ding Mr. Sheridan to join the 
ministerial phalanx, concludes 
with the following words ; 

" To patriot motives make no 
more thy vow, 

Think not of honour, but pre- 
ferment now." 

A Sage next tried apostacy to 
teach, 

But cough and age oppress'd the 
pow'rs of speech. 

Is this the hero of his country's 
cause, 

The guardian once of violated 
laws, 

Alas, how chang'd by time and 
party guise, 

To vote for Pitt, and counte- 
nance excise ! 

The country maid with beauties 

form'd for joy, 
Thus long resists the tempting 

rake's decoy ; 
At length undone, deserted, and 

distress'd, 
She condescends for shillings to 

be blest. 

Next 



PARTY POETRY. 



175 



Next came that duke who 
makes the nation groan, 

By changing British gold for 
brick and stone ; 

Tho' foil'd for once by Corn- 
wall's honest vote, 

On covered ways, he will not 
change his note ; 

Tho' Commons frown, tho' vet- 
'rau Debbeigs;e bawl, 

lie like the weakest, still is for 
the wall. 

Ere he commenc'd, Lord Raw- 
don's voice was heard, 

His cheek turn'd pale, and quick 
he disappear'd. 

Again the jackall join'd the" 

num'rous rear, 
With chop-fall'n face, and 

looks that spoke despair, 
For Great Lord Hawkesbury 

could not be there ; 
He to the king a costly present 

bore, 
From Bute, his tutor sage, in 

days of yore, 
A Splendid Book with many an 

herb and flow'r, 
Which sooth'd his mind for 

loss of place and pow'r ; 
Though some surmise, he yet 

exerts his skill, 
And is the master of the pup- 
pets still. 

At last, from Scotland, great 

Dundas arrives, 
From canvassing for votes, 

among their wives. 



Nine jealous husbands, who 

with fury burn, 
Had sworn, like Abelard, he 

should return. 
Their savage purpose fill'd him 

with affright ; 
In post-horse haste, he left them 

in the night. 
Though vers'd in arts with him 

so much in vogue, 
First to accuse and then to 

screen a rogue, 
He faulting spoke, when She-. 
. ridan arose, 
And was himself a host among 

his foes. 

<{ If from my country's cause I 
could depart, 

And selfish prudence had posses* 
my heart; 

If lost to friendship, honor, and 
fair fame, 

Inroll'd with your's, I could dis- 
grace my name ; 

I Treas'ry favors many years 
had known, 

Had bow d at levees, and ap- 
proached the throne ; 

Had silent sat, nor made yon 
Premier fret, 

Nor prov'd he paid ly running 
more in debt. 

But can I listen to your tamp- 
'ring wiles, 

Approv'd by Norfolk, blest with 
Bedford's smiles ; 

While Portland deigns my con- 
duct to approve, 

And 



176 



PARTY POETRY. 



And Devon steady in his coun- 
try s love ; 
While good Fitzwilliam takes 

with me a part, 
Possessing Rockingham's unsul- 
lied heart ; 
And still to blast each mean un- 
manly view, 
Burke to the cause of liberty is 

true. 
With patriot zeal his ardent 

bosom glows, 
Philanthropy and genius grace 

his brows. 
What though in keen debate, a 

dirTrence slight, 
Shed o'er your hopes a moment- 
ary light, 
Perish those hopes, ye pension'd 

slaves attend, 
The man so much your dread, 

is still my friend ; 
His honest heart bespeaks a zea- 
lous mind ; 
From int rest free, by no mean 

views confin'd. 
so when for gold and gems 

the miners toil, 
Beneath the surface of 

golconda s soil ; 
If from collision sparks of 

fire expand, 
They prove rich ore, and 
precious stones at hand. 
Whilst Fox and Conway aid 

our great design, 
What can seduce, with men like 

you to join ? 
Presumptive ignorance your pur- 
pose marrs, 



Trick first began, and still sup- 
ports your farce; 
Whilst as my friends I have a 

splendid host, 
Of arts, of arms, of sciences 

the boast ; 
I am content to meet your 

steady hate, 
The frowns of fortune and the 

storms of fate ; 
Nor would I leave for all your 

glitt ring store, 
A flow ry lawn, to batten on a 

moor." 



PERIPLUS OF HANNO.— 
In the article assigned to 
Carthage in a former volume, 
the editor endeavoured to sup- 
port an opinion, which several 
modern writers have taken con- 
siderable pains to invalidate ; 
that the . inhabitants of that 
African city had arrived at no 
small eminence as commercial 
navigators. 

In the course of this contro- 
versy, on which a profusion of 
learning has been poured forth, 
the authenticity of the Periplus 
of Hanno, has been on one 
side wholly denied, and on the 
other as strenuously supported : a 
wish having been expressed by a 
respectable female, whose wishes 
will be ever considered by me as 
commands, I produce a transla- 
tion of it. 
' Hanno 



PERIPLUS OF HANNO. 



177 



Hanno having been appointed 
to make a voyage of discovery 
beyond the columns of Hercu- 
les, (Gibraltar) and to plant co- 
lonies along the coast of Liby- 
Phe/iicia, a fleet of sixty ships 
was prepared duly furnished with 
whatever was requisite for such 
an expedition, seeds, living ani- 
mals, tools, and provisions; the 
number of persons embarked, 
including the crews, and those 
who were to be settled on the 
coast, men, women, and chil- 
dren, amounted to thirty thou- 
sand. 

" We quitted the harbour 
with a fair wind, and two days 
after we had passed the streights, 
(of Gibraltar) cast anchor op- 
posite an elevated and extensive 
plain ; here we left our first 
colonists, and here the city 
of Dumathina was afterwards 
built. 

(( Then steering to the west, 
we reached Cape Soloe (now 
Cape Bojador) a promontory 
covered with trees and under- 
wood ; on the summit we mar- 
ked out the foundations for a 
temple, to be hereafter dedicated 
to Neptune, which has since 
been built. 

'* Still following the coast, 
which takes an eastern direction, 
we observed a large lake, almost 
concealed by long and large 
reeds which grew round it; here 

VOL. IV. 



we saw many elephants and 
other wild beasts. 

" At the distance of one day's 
sailing from the Lake, we plant- 
ed another colony, and advan- 
cing still further to the south, 
four others; at regular inter- 
vals. 

" After this delay, continuing 
our voyage, we saw the river 
Lixus, which deriving its source 
from the interior parts of Africa, 
here discharges itself into the 
sea. The Nomades, a nation of 
wandering shepherds, were at- 
tending their flocks on its 
banks. 

" They were harmless; an 
intercourse took place, and some- 
of their countrymen were per- 
mitted to accompany us as 
guides and interpreters; these 
persons informed us that the 
internal parts of the country 
were mountainous, inhabited by 
Ethiopian savages, by wild 
beasts, and by the Troglydites ; 
a race of men, strange in form, 
but of surprizing quickness and 
agility. 

" Again weighing anchor, 
and steering to the south ; du- 
ring the whole of two days, no* 
thing was seen but a barren and 
desert coast ; inclining to the 
east, we found ourselves in a 
large bay, in the centre of which 
and not far from the main-land, 
was an island nearly a mile in 
A4 circumference; 



178 



PERIPLUS OF HANNO. 



circumference ; here we made 
another settlement to which we 
gave the name of Cerne.; (now 
called Argonin.) 

Ci We computed the distance 
of this island, from the mouth 
of the streights, to be equal to 
that from the columns of Her- 
cules to Carthage. 

(i Continuing our voyage, 
we passed the mouth of another 
river, and soon observed a se- 
cond bay of considerable mag- 
nitude, in which were three 
islands, and each of them larger 
than Cerne. 

iC The land here was moun- 
tainous, and inhabited by sava- 
ges cloathed in skins of wild 
beasts | they resisted our land- 
ing, and assaulted us with show- 
ers of stones. 

ee After a clay's sail we ap- 
proached a large river infested 
with crocodiles and sea-horses 
(this seems to have been the 
river Senegal)) we then sailed 
back to Cerne. 

" Then steering again to the 
south, we sailed up a considera- 
ble river ; the inhabitants who 
were numerous, fled when they 
saw us approach ; their cries 
-and their harsh dissonant lan- 
guage was alike unknown to us 
and our interpreters, 

ie Following the course of 
the stream, at the end of twelve 
days we came to a hilly country, 



covered wilh sweet smelling 
trees, the bark of which was 
beautifully variegated. 

44 For two days, only lofty 
mountains were seen, the land, 
then gradually descending, of- 
fered to our view distant plains 
and deep valhes ; we here sup- 
plied ourselves with water, then 
continuing our voyage, we 
reached another island, which 
by clay presented only gloomy 
woods, .solitude, and silence ; 
but as night approached, fires at 
regular distances suddenly bla- 
zed up, at the same time, a loud 
and discordant noise, vocal and 
instrumental, echoed through 
the island; torrents of liquid 
fire were also seen rushing into 
the sea (probably streams of 
lava disembogued from a vol- 
cano) . 

" We remarked, during the 
burning of the nocturnal, fires, 
one more elevated and stupen- 
dous than the rest, the flames 
of which apparently reached the 
clouds ; in the day time only, a 
lofty mountain with smoke issu- 
ing from it appeared. 

" Intimidated by such ap- 
pearances, our priests recom- 
mended immediate departure ; 
we weighed anchor, and after 
two days sailing came to another 
bay, and an island inhabited by 
ferocious savages, of whom the 
greatest number appeared to be 
femalest 



PERIPLUS OF HANNO. 



m 



females, • who were partially 
cloathed. 

e( We v attempted to catch 
some of them, but the males 
were too nimble, leaping preci- 
pices and mounting cliffs to us 
inaccessible, from which they 
rolled down fragments of rock 
upon r.s. 

(i In pursuing the women we 
were more successful, and caught 
three, whom it was our design 
to have carried to Carthage 
alive; but they were so' ex- 
tremely mischievous, furious, 
and unmanageable; biting and 
tearing every thing they could 
lay hold of, that we were under 
the necessity of killing them ; 
we preserved their skins which 
we carried home with us. 

" On examining our provi- 
sion, we found, that it was 
scarcely sufficient ror the sup- 
ply or our voyage to Carthage, 
we therefore without further de- 
lay, steered back the course by 
which we came." 

Such is the Periplus, which 
excited doubt, and produced 
disbelief in the learned Dodwell, 
as to its authenticity ; it obtained 
credit with Bougainville and 
Montesquieu ; the editor of 
this collection may perhaps be 
pardoned in venturing to think 
it has the internal evidence of 
truth; it is too dry for fiction, 
which generally calls in the aid 



of ornament and miraculous in- 
cident; it describes not fairy 
land, it tells not of feasting on 
lion's flesh, nor is the reader re- 
galed with live leef steaks. 

The following are some of 
the arguments which have been 
urged against the authority of 
this journal of Haiino's voyage. 

The present state of Africa, 
which does not afford a single 
remain of the establishments 
here mentioned. 

The appearance of the coast 
in many respects not at all cor- 
' responding : the embouchures 
of rivers differently placed) 
others not existing; considera- 
ble islands now seen where small 
ones are described, and sand 
banks only where there were 
islands. 

In reply it may be and has 
been observed, that time is the 
great leveller of man and all his 
works, and that when industry, 
wealth; and population have 
been driven from a country for 
more than two thousand years, 
unceasing annual vegetation, 
storms, war, the deposition of 
large rivers, and more particu- 
larly volcanoes and earthquakes, 
all rapidly tend to alter the face 
of the earth, and to restore the 
reign of wild nature and barba- 
rism. 
a a 2 Had 



ISO 



PERSIAN TALES. 



Had there been no historical 
evidence of the former existence 
of Herculaneum ; had its cover- 
ing of ashes and lava never been 
removed ; had a wood grown 
over the identical spot, and a 
spring of water burst forth from 
the ground, which in many si- 
milar instances has been actually 
the case in Italy; five hundred 
years hence the proprietor would 
probably laugh, as at an idle 
dream, were he to be told that 
underneath his cascade and 
shrubbery, there still existed the 
entire remains of a large city ; 
that within 'sixteen feet of the 
roots of his favorite trees, per- 
haps exactly under the villa 
which afforded him amusement 
and relaxation, priests had sacri- 
ficed, orators had pleaded, gladia- 
tors had fought, and patriots died. 

If in such an instance belief 
should be withheld, it would be 
one of the numerous examples 
in which philosophical scepti- 
cism leads its votaries as much 
astray into the land of error, as 
credulity and ignorance. 

Some of the positions with 
respect to the total alteration of 
the face of a country, civil, geo- 
graphical, and political, are re- 
markably illustrated by compar- 
ing the present with the former 
state of the United Provinces. 

The ground they now occupy 
is described by an antient writer, 



as a collection of sand banks 
and morasses, over which the 
waters of the great rivers of 
Germany were sometimes dif- 
fused and sometimes stagnated 4 
unhealthy, and for the most part 
uninhabited. 

It is scarcely necessary to add, 
that industry and love of free- 
dom, conveying the waters in 
dykes, and excluding the inroads 
of the sea, by artificial mounds, 
has converted the same place 
into terra Jirma; inhabited by a 
rich, a mercantile, and, till 
cursed by french fraternization, 
a poWerful republic, possessing 
populous cities, large towns, for- 
tresses, colonies, seamen, and 
shipping, which render them 
the second maritime people in 
Europe. 

Mingreli, described by a mo- 
dern writer (Chardin) as for the 
most part a collection of un- 
wholesome morassts, inhabited 
by a scant v population, and sup- 
ported with difficulty by an un- 
productive soil, was at a certain 
time, » according to Pliny, Ar- 
rian, and Strabo, and then called 
Colchis, a fertile district, re-pay- 
ing the husbandman's toils with 
plentiful crops, adorned with 
magnificence, and blessed with 
science, arts, and wealth. 

PERSIAN TALES, trans- 
lated by Phillips, from the 
French of Petit de la Croix. 

Pope, 



POPE, ALEXANDER. 



181 



Pope, a literary Sultan, who, 
to use his own words, could hear 
no rival near his throne, disliked 
Phillips, who had been exalted 
as the first and best pastoral 
writer in England, by the whig£, 
and under their patronage, had 
commenced a translation of Ho- 
mer. 

This party preference was ne- 
ver forgiven by the author of 
Windsor Forest, and the Eng- 
lish Iliad and Odyssey, confes- 
sedly superior to Phillips ; it laid 
the foundation of a coldness be- 
tween Pope and Addison, pro- 
duced the memorable and se- 
vere character of the latter, and 
occasioned the tory poet to abuse 
Phillips, because he Ci turned a 
Persian tale for half a crown." 

Did this splenetic remark arise 
from the trifling nature of the 
work, or from Phillips doing it 
at too cheap a rate ? Having 
himself got rather more than 
half a crown for turning the 
Tale of Homer, Pope probably 
thought working at so low a rate 
was establishing a bad precedent. 

POLYCARP, said to be a 
disciple of Saint John the 
Evangelist. 

Meeting on a certain occasion 
with the backslider Marcian, he 
passed him unnoticed : the He- 
retick complaining that he did 
not return his salutation, Polv- 



carp replied, <e I do salute thee 
as the first born child of Satan." 

POPE, ALEXANDER. In 
the article assigned to this 
English poet, in my third vo- 
lume, the Epistle to Abelard is 
censured, as one of those pro- 
ductions which most fathers of 
families would wish to remove 
from the shelf of a modern li- 
brary : mention is also made of 
the literary eminence which the 
seducer of his pupil had attained. 

A lady whose opinions have 
been frequently introduced ifi 
this collection, feels disposed to 
doubt whether a man guilty of 
so flagrant a violation of duty 
and so criminally weak as Abe- 
lard avowedly was, could be a 
man of considerable abilities. 

I have on, many occasions la- 
mented that splendid talents were 
too often obscured by moral tur- 
pitude ; proofs of it perpetually 
occur; and there cannot be a 
doubt that the unfaithful tutor 
of Eloisa was a man of a strong 
and well-cultivated mind ; that 
in the instance here recorded and 
so dangerously dwelt on by 
Pope, he prostituted his powers 
to sensuality, is a question of 
another species. 

The celebritv of Abelard as a 
teacher is proved by his own 
works, and the collateral evi- 
dence of other writers. The fol- 
lowing 



182 



POPE, ALEXANDER. 



lowing is part of a letter addres- 
sed to him by a respectable con- 
temporary, who gave him whole- 
some advice in the days of pros- 
perity ; and when he was wretch- 
ed, did not withhold from this 
unhappy man the consolations of 
real and disinterested friendship. 
I have several reasons for not 
laying a translation of this ex- 
tract before my readers ; one of 
them is that the person I wish to 
convince of the learning and abi- 
lities of Abelard, an accomp- 
lished woman, a good mother, 
and an excellent wife, is able 
to read or write Latin, English, 
French, and Spanish, with equal 
facility. 

<c Roma suos till transmitte- 
lat alumnos, et quce olim om- 
nium allium scientiam audilori- 
lus solebat off under e 9 sapien- 
tiorem te 9 se sapiente, transmis- 
sis scholaribus, monstrabat. 

Nulla terrarum spatia, nulla 
montium caewnina, nulla con- 
cava vallium, nulla via diffiii- 
lia licet oh sit a periculo et latrone, 
quominus ad te properarent, re- 
tinelal. 

Anglorum turbam juveman, 
mare interjacens, et urularum 
procella lerribilis, non terrebant; 
omni periculo contemplo, audito 
tuo nomine ad te confluebant. 

Rem ola Britannia sua anima- 
Ija crudienda desiinabctf; Andi- 
gavenses, corum edomita jcri- 



tate 9 tibifamulebuntur suis; Pie- 
tavi, Wascones et Iberi; Nor- 
mannia, Flandria, Teutonicus et 
Suevius, tuum calere ingenium, 
laudare et prcedicare a^sidue stu- 
debant ; P:.-risioriim civitaiem ha- 
bitantes a te doceri sitiebant ; 
cardinales et curice clerici se tuos 
discipulosfuissegloriantur ; tanta 
est muliitudo id nee Incur kospi- 
tiis, nee terra sufficeret alimen- 
tis." 

After thus describing the 
crowds of scholars who followed 
Abelard from almost every part 
of Europe, the writer laments 
that so unexampled a popularity 
rendered him presumptuous and 
vain, and as he possessed a good 
person, with pleasing manners, 
exposed him more particularly 
to female snares. 

" Illud quod te prcecipitem 
dedit, singularem scilicet fcemi- 
narum amor cm, et laqueos libi- 
dinis quibus sectatores capiunt, 
prcetereo, quod ordini nostra et 
regulce nostrcenon concordat." 

The writer pointing out the ruin 
of soul, body, and estate, which 
his criminal indulgences would 
produce, and in some degree had 
produced, endeavours to prove 
that some degree of salutary con- 
solation may be drawn, on this 
account, from the evils he has 
undergone. 

Here corporis parlicula quam 

pcrdidisti, quantum tibi nocue- 

rat, 



PRETENDER. 



183 



rat, ac nocere quamdiu perman- 
sit, non desistebat, melius niarum 
diminutio rerum quam mea ora- 
tio monstrat', quicquid prceter 
quotidianum viclum et usu?n ne- 
cessarium, acquirere poteras, in 
voraginem fornicarice consump- 
tionis demergere non cessabas; 
avaritia meretricum cuncta ra- 
puerat. 

i£ Ergo f rater ne doleas nee 
contristeris perturhatione hnjus 
incommodi cum tantum id Hit at is 
offer at, Nullo nunc suspectus 
ab kospite recipiaris; maritus, 
quamvis sit absens, nee viola- 
tionem uxoris, nee lecluli con- 
cussionemformidabit. 

6i Turmas virginum, venus- 
tate et juventule splendentium, 
transibis, sine inflammatione li- 
bidinis et sine peccato ; nocturnas 
somniorum illusiones, non sen- 
ties, aut, quod cerium est si 
voluntas aderit, nullus sequetur 
effect us. 

" Blanditice uxoris, corporum- 
que contactus, curaque liberorum 
ie nil Ion gins aut a templo Dei, 
ciut re literaria retardabunt." 

I doubt if this writer be mo- 
rally or anatomically correct in 
one part of his description of the 
good effects of this misfortune. 

PRETENDER. At the ac- 
cession of the house of 
Hanover, this was said by cer- 
tain writers to be a party watch- 



word, a political bugbear rung 
in the ears and presented to the 
imaginations of the good people 
of England, without any real 
foundation. The following well 
authenticated story has been re- 
lated, which may serve to throw 
some light on the subject. 

Only a few months before the 
death of Queen Anne, Archbi- 
shop Sharp meeting accidentally 
with the Marquis of Wharton, 
thus addressed him : 

"My Lord, the measures which 
the present ministry pursue are 
such as I by no means approve; 
they seem to be going unwar- 
rantable lengths; I have hitherto 
joined with them, because I 
thought they had their country's 
interest and the welfare of the 
church at heart; but whatever 
they or you may think, I am no 
Pretender's man, no Jacobite, 
nor ever shall be one; but will 
oppose that interest to the ut- 
most of my power. 

" In short, I suspect there is 
some design to bring in the Pre- 
tender ; but they shall never have 
my concurrence. If your Lord- 
ship therefore will join forces 
with me, as I flatter myself with 
possessing considerable interest, 
particularly among my own or- 
der, we may form a party, strong 
enough to break all their mea- 
sures." 

" Is your Grace in earnest ?" 
replied 



iS4 



PROPHECY NEVER FULFILLED. 



replied the Marquis. " I was 
never more so/' " I beg leave 
then, to tell you a story. Not 
many months ago, I had a poin- 
ter given to me; she was excel- 
lent and staunch, and in due 
time produced me a litter of 
puppies, which I pleased myself 
with supposing would be equal 
in goodness. 

" I went every day to see 
them, but when the time came 
that little dogs generally have 
their sight, these puppies con- 
tinued still blind ; I visited them 
the tenth, eleventh and twelfth 
days, and they continued the 
same. At length, having no 
hopes, I ordered them to be 
thrown into the horse pond. 
Would your Grace believe it, 
just as they were sinking, their 
eyes opened. " With these words 
the Marquis turned on his heel. 

PRINTERS and COMPO- 
SITORS. In return for 
their making me sometimes talk 
nonsense, I have occasionally 
recorded a few of their mistakes. 

A curious one is produced by 
Mr, Malone. 

My readers need not he told 
that whlft was the ancient inter- 
jection for silence ; from which 
the name of a favourite game, 
or rather a science at cards, is 
supposed to be derived, as re- 
quiring; mute attention. 



In this sense it is used by an 
old translator of the JSneid of 
Virgil, at the commencement of 
the second book. Conticuere 
omnes are the words of the Ro- 
man poet, which are thus done 
into English : — " They whisted 
all;" but the compositor, either 
a humourist or too fond of ale, 
by adding a letter, has given the 
passage a laughable turn, " They 
whistled all!" 

To many laughable errors of 
the press the following may be 
added. The Potatoes of Europe 
have been called on to resist the 
ambitious views of France; and 
the Dog of Venice once gave 
audience to an English Ambas- 
sador. A British senator has 
asked leave to bring in a Bull, 
and the House of Commons has 
proceeded to the order of the 
Dey ; an Irish officer received a 
Confusion in his head; and an 
advertisement in a newspaper 
once announced an effectual cure 
for Raptures. Rice has been 
made an ingredient in a cure for 
the plague, instead of Rue; and 
a professional man rendered ri- 
diculous, by publishing a Sylla- 
bub of his lectures. 

PROPHECY NEVER FUL- 
FILLED.—The following 
passage being the eleventh verse 
in the 29th chapter of the Pro- 
phet Ezekiel, and applied by the 
Jewish 



PUBLIC PRAYER. 



185 



Jewish sage to the land of Egypt, 
has been lately produced by an 
unbeliever, as foretelling a cir- 
cumstance which has not taken 
place: 

" No foot of man shall pass 
through it, no foot of beast shall 
pass through it, neither shall it 
be inhabited for forty years." 

With submission to the philo- 
sopher, its not having been ful- 
filled is no proof that it may not. 
Indeed, when we consider the 
present state of that unfortunate 
country, a prey to foreign ene- 
mies, and distracted by internal 
discord, and add to those cir- 
cumstances the hourly danger 
of its being desolated by that 
tremendous scourge the plague, 
I am of opinion that there is 
great probability of the prophe- 
tic words of the son of Buzi 
being verified. 

For these last fifty years, what 
motive could call any rational man 
to that devoted territory, what 
but the impetuous call of duty, 
or the fanatic zeal of the French 
institute, that fine political mask 
for concealing Bonaparte's deep 
designs on our oriental posses- 
sions ; a mask, I thank God, so 
gloriously torn from the usur- 
per's face, by Abercrcmbie, Hut- 
chinson, and Nelson. 

PUBLIC PRAYER. It has 
" been the honest perhaps 

VOL. IV. 



the visionary wish of many wor- 
thy individuals that a liturgy or 
form of worship and adoration 
could be compiled, which every 
reasonable creature in the uni- 
verse might in public association 
join in, and address to the mer- 
ciful and omnipotent Creator of 
the world. 

In such a composition without 
meaning to remove or to enter 
on the subject of subscriptions 
and tests, sectarian dogma and 
every point that has been or can 
be disputed would naturally be 
dropped, and each individual re- 
serving in his bosom and for the 
closet his own precise mode of 
doctrine and faith, would chear- 
fully partake in the sublime cho- 
rus of praise and thanksgiving 
to that Being whom he reveren- 
tially looks up to for all that he 
hopes, and all that he enjoys. 

Such has been the inexpedient 
chimera of a modern philosopher^ 
who prepared a form and a 
house of prayer on this plan, 
and if T mistake not, actuallv 
officiated himself; but as the 
novelty wore away, his pews 
were gradually deserted, the gen- 
tleman himself was exposed to 
considerable obloquy ; and as 
scepticism has been compared to 
the perpetual motion, and to 
leaven dropped into meal, which 
rests not from its ferment till 
the whole be leavened, so, the 
e b versatility 



186 



PUBLIC PRAYER. 



versatility of his genius still tra- 
velling on through the land of 
doubt and uncertainty, at last 
led him to the gloomy regions 
of*******, from which I 
sincerely wish him a safe and 
speedy return ; for that he will 
return to the central point from 
which he originally verged I feel 
a firm conviction, as strong as it 
is possible to feel of any event 
that hath not yet taken place. 

The following is part of the 
liturgy he formerly composed 
and made use of; it was thought 
well put together by many per- 
sons who differed from him 
widely in religious opinions; but 
I understand that the ingenious 
author now will not hear of it. 

MINISTER. 

The Lord our God is worthy 
of praise; from his omnipo- 
tence, which appears manifest 
in the creation, and from his 
benevolence, which is apparent 
in the means of happiness he has 
so liberally diffused through ani- 
mated nature. We acknow- 
ledge him to be the only true 
God, whose wisdom planned, 
and whose power conducts the 
moral government of the world. 

PEOPLF. 

Blessed art thou, O Lord God, 
and worthy to be praised for 
ever. 

MINISTER. 

We adore and worship the 
Most High; as a Being of in- 



finite dnratiori, and immense 
power, neither bounded by li- 
mits, nor confined by space ; as 
a glorious, active Principle, in- 
comprehensibly, but evidently 
animating and directing every 
action, and every particle of mat- 
ter ; as a wonderful and glorious 
Being, in whom we live, move, 
and have our existence. 

PEOPLE. 

The Lord dwelleth not in tem- 
ples made with hands; the unU 
verse is his habitation. 

MINISTER. 

He hath^ounded the earth by 
his wisdofr; he raiseth up the 
waters, and his clouds drop down 
the dew ; he is mighty, and his 
ways are past our finding out. 

PEOPLE 

Manifold, O Lord, are thy 
works; in wisdom hast thou 
created them all. 

MINISTER. 

God is merciful, and gra- 
cious; he produceth beauty and 
order through all the creation, 
the light and genial warmth of 
that glorious luminary the sun, 
A salutary revolution of the sea- 
sons, vapour, wind, rain and 
vegetation are the laws of na- 
ture's God ; he doeth good con- 
tinually; his mercies are over all 
his works. 

PEOPLE. 

Thy works glorify thee, O 
God, and all thy creatures praise 
thee. 

MINISTER 



PUNNING. 



187 



MINISTER. 

Thou hast exercised a wise 
and gracious care over us, O 
Lord, from the moment that our 
dim speck of entity began, till 
we grew up and became rational 
beings. Thou hast supplied all 
our wants, and when our powers 
are wearied, refreshest us with 
balmy sleep. 

PEOPLE. 

O that men would praise the 
Lord, for his goodness. 
minister. 

We thank thee, O Lord, for 
endowing us with understand- 
ing, and for enabling us to see 
the beauty of virtue and reli- 
gion ; for laying open the mea- 
sures of knowledge to our view. 

We thank thee, for placing us 
in civilized society, for giving 
us social affections, and a form 
of government, under which per- 
sonal liberty, property, and a rea- 
sonable freedom of opinion are 
respected. 

PEOPLE. 

O give thanks unto the Lord ; 
for he is good, and his mercy 
endureth for ever. 

RUNNING, an infirmity to 
which many able men have 
been subject. 

From this propensity his plays 
prove that Shakespeare was by 
no means free ; the following in- 
stance is related in a collection 



of anecdotes preserved with the 
Harleian manuscripts, and en- 
titled Merry Passages and Jests. 

William Shakespeare being at 
a certain time on terms of fami- 
liarity and friendship with Ben 
Jonson, before the latter had be- 
come jealous and envious of his 
rising merits, stood godfather to 
a child of Ben's, who demanded 
of him in a pleasant way what gift 
he would bestow, as the custom 
was. " I have just been think- 
ing," replied the Warwickshire 
bard," and am determined to give 
the boy a dozen latten spoons, 
and thou shalt translate them." 

Swift sometimes succeeded in 
this species of illegitimate wit, 
and on hearing the following 
impromptu, said he would have 
given a guinea (in his opinion 
and at the latter part of his life a 
great sum) to have been author 
of it. 

A friend of the Dean's, at that 
period well known and respected 
in the church, was caught in a 
heavy shower, and rode full 
speed and dripping wet into ari 
inn-yard, where he quickly dis- 
mounted, and having a strong 
voice, called lustily about him. 

He soon found his way to a 
large kitchen fire, and to a waiter 
who advanced towards him with 
a low bow, he exclaimed " Pull 
pull ! at the same time extending 
his arm for the purpose of hav- 
fib 2 ing 



188 



OUACK MEDICINES. 



ing his great coat taken off; the 
waiter drawing back, immedi- 
ately replied, " No, Sir, you 
must excuse me ; I cannot think 
of flying in the face of an ex- 
press act of parliament. It is 
felony to strip an ash"— that 
being the clergyman's name, 
who was himself a notorious 
punster, and so delighted with 
what could not have been pre- 
meditated that he directly gave 
the utterer of it a guinea. 

Swift the drawcansir, and at- 
oll of his day, who spared nei- 
ther man, woman, nor child, 
whose attacks on Delany and 
Sheridan were coarse, mortify- 
ing, and incessant, we are in- 
formed, on the faith of an hum- 
ble friend, that on a certain oc- 
casion, receiving a note from 
one of these gentlemen directed 
to the Dean of St. Paw-tricks, 
this same Dr. Swift sat in a 
Irown study for more than an 
hour. 

Every day's experience proves 
that making a joke of another man 
and being ridiculed ourselves are 
two very different things. 

MJACK MEDICINES.— 
To account for the rise 
and fall of these remedies in pub- 
lic estimation has exercised the 
ingenuity of many. 

If any pub tic medicines , as we 
now are taught to call them, 
really possessed such virtues as 



their projectors first announced, 
how can mankind be so blind to 
those invaluable blessings health 
and comfort as to suffer them to 
sink into oblivion. 

If, on the other hand, they 
have proved not only ineffectual 
but frequently mischievous, it 
is equally difficult to account for 
their having ever attained general 
approbation and repute. A strong 
case, in point, occurs in the 
255th page of my third volume. 
In the article to which I refer, I 
am accused of defending the un- 
warrantable practice of a rash 
and impudent empiric, who 
while the cures he performed 
were proclaimed in every news- 
paper and blazoned on every 
post, artfully suppressed the 
numerous cases in which his 
medicines either failed or were 
productive of fatal effects. 

Another example is also on 
record. Mrs. Stephens, the in- 
ventor or rather the assumer of 
a composition once so famous 
for dissolving the stone in the 
human bladder, and for the com- 
munication of which she re- 
ceived from the public purse a 
large pecuniary reword. 

On this occasion, considerable 
pains were taken to ascertain 
its real merits, and, if possible, 
to prevent fraud aud collusion. 

By certain eminent profes- 
sional mer, appointed for the 
purpose 



QUACK MEDICINES. 



189 



purpose, a patient was found 
who evidently laboured under 
the disease which the compound 
professed to remove; he was 
placed under the care of Mrs. 
Stephens, took her preparation in 
such form and quantity and for 
such a period as she directed, 
and after a certain time, he was 
produced as cured. 

A second and a careful exami- 
nation, by the gentlemen ap- 
pointed, now took place, and 
after repeated soundings ivith the 
staff, as I understand, is the 
technical mode, no stone could 
be found. A report, favourable 
to the efficacy of the receipt, was 
made, and five or ten thousand 
pounds were paid to the fortu- 
nate proprietor. 

In this instance, the word 
fortunate was peculiarly applica- 
ble ; as, a few years after this 
transaction, the patient died, 
when permission was obtained 
by a professional man concerned 
to open the body of the de- 
ceased. 

No stone, it is true, was dis- 
covered in the bladder, but by a* 
wonderful effort of nature, which 
cannot, I think, be fairly attri- 
buted to the drugs taken, a lar<re 
one was found in the cavitv 
which contains the bladder and 
intestines, protruded in a portion 
of the coat and between the 
muscular fibres of the former. 



But although the efficacy, to 
a certain degree and in slight 
cases, of medicines of the class 
recommended by Mrs. Stephens, 
cannot be doubted, the moment 
that a method of compounding 
it was published, it sunk in ge- 
neral estimation, and no more 
was heard of its wonderful ef- 
fects. 

From this and other instances, 
it appears that dealing in 

MYSTERY IS ONE OF THE GREAT 

pillars of quackery; that in 
this and other instances, the 
public opinion is influenced as 
the miser's horse was on the 
subject of oats, which he had 
never seen. 

OMNE IGNOTUM PRO MAGNI- 
FICO. 

Addressed to an avaricious man, 
who starved his horses. 

Bred in thy stable, in thy mea- 
dow born, 
What vast ideas they must have 
of corn. 

Another important circum- 
stance should also be recollected 
by mankind ; the mere prepara- 
tion and dispensing of medicines, 
the giving them pompous names, 
and compiling a long list of dis- 
eases which they infallibly 
cure is an easy branch of the 
medical art, often within the 
reach of a farrier, a school-boy, 
a merry 



i)0 



OUACK MEDICINES. 



a merry andrew, or an old wo- 
man. 

But to acquire a know- 
ledge OF THAT COMPLICATED 
HYDRAULIC MACHINE CALLED 
MAN, TO COMPREHEND THE 
MIRACULOUS PHENOMENA OP 
ANOTHER ELECTRICAL APPA- 
RATUS CALLED THE NERVOUS 
SYSTEM, INCLOSED, IT IS TRUE, 
WITH IT IN THE SAME CASE, 
BUT ACTING IN A HUNDRED 
INSTANCES, WHOLLY INDEPEN- 
DENTLY OF IT, OR INDEED OF 
ANY MECHANIC LAWS ; TO KNOW 
AND TO FEEL FROM POSI- 
TIVE EVIDENCE THE EXISTENCE, 
POWER, AND INFLUENCE ON 
THE HUMAN BODY, OF A THINK- 
ING PRINCIPLE, OF THAT DI- 
VINE PARTICULA AURiE WHICH 
WE DENOMINATE AN IMMOR- 
TAL SOUL ; TO DIVE, I SAY, INTO 
THESE MYSTERIES OF THE CRE- 
ATION, AND TO DEDUCE FROM 
THEM RULES FOR REPLENISH- 
ING THE EXHAUSTED FOUNTAIN 
OF LIFE, AND ENABLING DEBI- 
LITY TO RESUME THE DROPPING 
REINS OF VOLITION AND PER- 
CEPTION ; THESE ARE GIFTS 
MORE IMMEDIATELY DERIVED 
FROM ALMIGHTY GOD,. COM- 
MUNICATED ONLY TO THE SE- 
LECT FEW, AND EMINENTLY 
DISTINGUISH THE PHYSICIAN, 
THE PHILOSOPHER, AND THE 
MAN OF SCIENCE FROM THE 
HERO OF A PESTLE AND MOR- 



TAR, OR HIS MORE OSTENTA- 
TIOUS ASSOCIATE, SO DEXTE- 
ROUS IN MANOEUVRING THE 
TONGUE, THE PULSE, THE STOP- 
WATCH, AND THE GUINEA. 

The following words of a res- 
pectable periodic writer, more 
than fifty years ago, deserve re- 
peating. — It is commonly men- 
tioned, as an allowed fact, that 
men without parts or literary 
qualifications may practise phy- 
sic with success, in other words, 
that an illiterate blockhead mav 
be a good physician. As tnis is 
a formidable and dangerous max- 
im, mankind should be put on 
their guard against it. 

They should recollect that ge- 
nerally speaking certain medi- 
cines are not specific antidotes 
for certain diseases; for, twenty 
persons may be ill of a fever, but 
in each case attended with such 
different symptoms that a pre- 
paration which would certainly 
cure one of the patients would 
as certainly kill another; so that 
the efficacy and superior power 
and activity of the medicine, if 
Administered without skill, aug- 
ment the danger, in the same 
proportion that they diminish 
the probability of removing the 
complaint. 

To investigate disease, to dis- 
cover its causes by its symptoms, 
and to apply proper remedies, 
not only to its accidental com- 
plications,. 



RETIREMENT. 



191 



plications, but to the habits, age, 
sex, and constitution of the sick, 
require such skill as can be pro- 
duced only by extensive know- 
ledge, sound judgment, and cri- 
tical enquiry ; but these cannot 
be effectually exerted if the pa- 
tient is not seen. 

To deliberately write and pub- 
lish cross nonsense, to be defi- 
cient in propriety and common 
honesty as well as common 
sense, to be ignorant of English 
grammar and his native tongue 
are proofs of insolence and stu- 
pidity, and amount to positive 
proofs of a man's unfitness to 
practise physic. To detect and 
expose such a character, and to 
guard the world against him is 
arresting the foe of mankind in 
his walk, and intercepting that 
arrow which flieth in the dark. 

OUESTION, a singular one, 
and apparently on a trifling 
subject, but leading to important 
consequences. 

Wrapt up in majesty divine, 
Doth God regard on what I 
dine ? "• 

This is partly a translation of 
a French epigram, occasioned by 
a Catholic who was found eat- 
ing meat on a fast day. In re- 
ply to long and loud reproaches 
for not making his dinner on 
• fish, the irritated offender ex- 
claimed, 
Pent uji hareng plane a DieuP 



But the business of this arti- 
cle was to answer the English 
question, Does God regard on 
what we dine ? The reply is 
yes, if what we eat leads to a 
violation of his commandments. 

RETIREMENT, addition to 
an article under that or a 
similar title in one of my pre- 
ceding volumes. 

The following are the words 
of a deceased man of genius, 
driven from his country by reli- 
gious persecution. It cannot be 
denied that he had irritated his 
enemies by previous aggression, 
and licentious sarcasm. As he 
approaches the spot chosen for 
his retreat, he addresses it in 
these animated lines. 
O take and keep me, ever blest 

domain, 
Where freedom, Flora, and Po- 
mona reign ; 
Take me, the world with trans- 
port I resign, 
And let your peaceful solitude 

be mine. 
Blest scenes, where freedom's 

all enlivening day 
Pours on the cottager a genial ray. 
No tyrant here in pompous tin- 
sel drest ; 
No glittering emblems blazing 

on the breast ; 
No tissued ribbons to the world 

declare 
The selfish heart that lurks be- 
neath a star ; 

No 



ist 



llIENZr. 



Nor wealth with haughty su- 
percilious eyes, 
The fait' ring pray'r of weeping 

want denies. 
Here all are brothers, equal parts 

sustain, 
Alike the heirs of pleasure and 

of pain. 
Come, gracious freedom, to my 

lov'd retreat, 
Come, and with friendship, 

share the mossy seat ; 
Come, from the proud, the tur- 
bulent and great, 
The craft of business, and the 
pomp of state. 

Yet this gentleman, like other 
reiirers, found as much craft in 
his country retirement as in the 
metropolis he had quitted. It 
is also worthy of remark, that 
the country he so eloquently 
describes as the residence of li- 
berty and equalit), and which I 
believe was the first to accede to 
and accept the offer of fraterni- 
zation from the ci-devant French 
republic, is now groaning under 
the iron rod of Napoleon the 
. First. 

RIENZI, a native of Rome, 
in the early part of the 
fourteenth century, born of ob- 
scure parents, during the ponti- 
ficate of Nicholas Bocasino, who 
governed the church little more 
than eight months, under the 
appellation of Benedict the Ele- 



venth, and at a period when the 
Popes resided at Avignon. 

Kienzi received an education 
better than the occupation of his 
father, a little innkeeper, could 
well afford, and in contemplat- 
ing the illustrious examples of 
virtue and patriotism recorded . 
by the authors he perused, his 
mind, which appears to have 
been endued with keen sensibi- 
lity, was roused to the highest 
pitch of enthusiasm and energy. 
. Possessing a considerable share 
of natural eloquence, he became 
a favourite with the multitude, 
to whom in accidental ,meetings 
of the people he avowed and ex- 
plained his democratic and re- 
publican propensities; he repre- 
sented the folly and crimes of 
the ruling families, by whom 
their property was confiscated, 
their wives and daughters vio- 
lated. He lamented that his na- 
tive city, once the mistress of 
the world, and which had given 
birth to Cincinnatus and Cato, 
to Brutus, and to Scipio, should 
be degraded by despotism, by 
^corrupt magistrates, and per- 
verted laws. 

At this unpropitious interval, 
his brother being assassinated, he 
loudly demanded justice and le- 
gal investigation ; but the mur- 
derer was protected by the Ca- 
lonna influence. 

Disappointed and enraged, Ri- 
enzi 



RIENZI. 



193 



enzi rushed through the streets 
with fury in his looks, loudly 
proclaiming the injury and in- 
justice he had experienced, and 
collecting, as he passed along, 
the idle, the discontented, and 
the ill-designing. 

Having reached a large square, 
he found his audience nume- 
rous, and ascending a scaffold 
which had been erected for re- 
pairing a decayed palace, he thus 
addressed them : — 

" Friends and fellow citizens, 

cc The blood of my slaughtered 
brother cries for vengeance, and 
would justify a severe retalia- 
tion ; but it is your wish and 
mine to procure the inestimable 
blessings of liberty, without in- 
volving our country in blood- 
shed and confusion. 

" The Guardian Genius of 
immortal Rome has not forsaken 
her in these degenerate days ; and 
the assassin of my family ap- 
pears to have taken the first step 
towards our political melioration. 

" The accomplishment of 
your wishes, the establishment of 
the good old cause, is rapidly ad- 
vancing, if you only have forti- 
tude and forbearance to exert 
the power you possess with spi- 
rit, perseverance, and modera- 
tion. 

" The strength of our oppres- 
sors is imaginary; they are with- 
out union, without virtue, and 

VOL. iv. 



without resources. The public 
revenues are in fact our own, 
and our gracious Sovereign the 
Pope, who unhappily for his 
subjects, is not permitted to re- 
side among us, cannot but rejoice 
at our expelling the wolves in 
sheep's cloathing from the flock 
and fold of St. Peter. 

" Our undertaking is without 
danger, the tranquil enjoyment of 
life and all its comforts depends on 
its execution ; should it, however, 
fail, contrary to your hopes and 
my own strong convictions, 
death, a glorious, an honourable 
death will be our portion ; a fate 
far more desirable than dragging 
on a despicable existence, with 
our property, our wives and 
our daughters subject to caprice, 
rapacity, and lust. 

But as energy and expedition 
are the soul and body of every 
enterprize, I will with your per-, 
mission instantly publish a pro- 
clamation, to call an assembly 
of the people $ on this occasion, 
he who appears armed shall suf- 
fer death. 

" To prevent opposition, and 
ensure peace, care shall be taken 
that the nobility, their relatives, 
and every adherent directly or 
collaterally connected with the 
present corrupt and perverted 
government shall leave the city 
without delay. 

ie In the mean time, I bid 
c c yon 



194 



RIENZI. 



you heartily farewel, and ear- 
nestly intreat that each person 
demean himself with prudence, 
and recommend a similar con- 
duct to his family and neigh- 
bours ; so shall we not disgrace 
the cause in which we are en- 
gaged, and prove to the world 
that a few precious drops of Ro- 
man blood are still circulating in 
our veins. " 

He was heard with silent obe- 
dience, the multitude quietly dis- 
persed, and wonderful to relate, 
within three hours from the time 
that Rienzi dismissed his au- 
dience, the whole of the nobi- 
lity with such persons as chose 
to accompany them departed 
from the city without a mur- 
mur. As the morning ap. 
proached, and before day-light 
appeared, such- was the confi- 
dence placed in him, or so great 
. were the expectations he had 
raised, not only the whole space 
before the Church of St. Angelo 
but the windows and roofs of the 
adjoining houses, and every place 
which commanded a view of the 
spot were covered with specta- 
tors, whose numbers it would 
not be easy to calculate or tell. 

After a sufficient space of time 
had elapsed to excite hope and 
stimulate impatience, the doors 
of the church were thrown open, 
where Rienzi and his principal 
adherents had passed the night 



in celebrating mass; he issued 
forth, presenting himself to the 
people, bareheaded, but cloathed 
in armour. 

At his right hand, (strange to 
tell,) was the Bishop of Orrieto, 
the papal vicar ; four silken ban- 
ners followed next, the bearers 
of them being conspicuous from 
their purple robes ornamented 
with golden embroidery, as the 
ensigns of authority, waved with 
the wind; the wondering popu- 
lace beheld emblazoned on them 
in emblematic or allegorical fi- 
gures, justice and liberty, 
concord and peace, dtlir ea- 
tions large as life, of St., Paul, 
with a drawn sword, and St. 
Peter, with his keys did not es- 
cape their observation. 

A procession, accompanied 
with martial music, now com- 
menced. The colours w ere fol- 
lowed by more than a hundred 
of citizens, zealously attached to 
the good old cause; these were 
succeeded by the people, in com- 
pact order, but without riot or 
confusion, and the immense 
machine moved slowly to the 
Capitol. 

Rienzi assuming confidence 
from the encouragement and 
applause he received on every 
side, ascended a lofty balcony^ 
from which he addressed the 
people; he congratulated them 
on the important victory they 
had 



RTENZI. 



195 



had gained over vice and usurpa- 
tion, without depriving a sin- 
gle individual of his life. As he 
was proceeding to enlarge on the 
glorious prospect before them, 
the populace, in the warmth of 
their gratitude, or perhaps pre- 
viously instructed, loudly de- 
clared RlENZI SHALL BE KlNG. 

When their shouts had ceased, 
he protested that he would never 
assume a title which had been 
borne by Tarquin, by Nero, and 
Commodus. It was in vain that 
his partizans exerted all their ef- 
forts, and quoted his favourite 
poet, to prove (as we might 
prove under George the Third) 
that the blessings of liberty were 
never more perfectly enjoyed 
than under a good king. After 
a long, a real, or an affected 
struggle, he consented to be cal- 
led Tribune op Rome; but un- 
der that unassuming title, ap- 
pears to have exercised absolute 
authority, forgetting what the 
majority of his subjects probably 
did not know, that in the earlier 
and pure ages of the Roman re- 
public, neither executive nor le- 
gislative powers were lodged in 
the hands of the Tribunus plebis, 
he being in fact as well as form 
defender of popular privileges, 
and a check on the consular and 
patrician branches of the old 
constitution. 

But however incorrect or in- 



appropriate his appellation, he 
fulfilled every regal duty with 
honesty and zeal, redressing 
many grievances, and amending 
various abuses in the courts of 
law, and in the collection of the 
public revenues. On these oc- 
casions, the benefits derived from 
his exertions and his general po- 
pularity enabled him to over- 
come the enemies his character 
as a reformer created. 

But a more afflicting, a for* 
midable evil loudly demanded 
suppression. The pdwer of the 
Roman nobility, who converted 
their palaces into fortresses, and 
having originally seized by vio- 
lence and occupied by prescrip- 
tion the towers, gates and bridges 
of the city, maintained a species 
of petty sovereignty in their va- 
rious districts, and disciplining 
their domestics* vassals, and de- 
pendents, occasionally issued 
forth as interest or passion sti- 
mulated, and rendered the streets 
gf the metropolis a scene of war- 
fare and contention. 

Rienzi at once, and without 
delay, destroyed this fruitful 
source of animosity and rebel- 
lion; he declared there should 
only be one Master in Rome, 
the Tribune elected by the 

PEOPLE. 

Awed by his predominating 
spirit, the proprietors of barrica- 
does and fortified posts sullenly 
c c 2 relinquished 



196 



RIENZI. 



relinquished them, and saw them 
either dismantled or occupied 
by the troops of Rienzi; for, al- 
though strong- in public opinion, 
he saw the necessity of military 
power to support his authority, 
and soon after his election, em- 
bodied and arrayed a considera- 
ble number of men, whom in 
the present day we should caU 
national guards or volunteers. 
Of these, on any occasion of 
danger or alarm, twenty thou- 
sand could speedily oe assembled. 
Rienzi had thus exerted his 
power and influence in effecting 
the only legitimate purposes for 
which they ought to be exerted ; 
in alleviating the burthens, dimi- 
nishing the oppression, and aug- 
menting the comforts of his peo- 
ple. He extinguished the rights 
of sanctuaries and privileges 
•which had been so much abused; 
he declared that no shelter should 
be a protection for crimes ; that 
while he administered the su- 
preme authority, honest men 
should rejoice, but villains trem- 
ble. 

But 'the head of the Tribune, 
like other heads, was rendered 
giddy, by elevation and success; 
he gradually lost sight of that 
moderation and simplicity in 
mariners, life and conversation 
for which he had hitherto been 
distinguished, he neglected or 



despised those arts which caused 
him first to rise ; he affected the 
dress and language of royalty. 

This Tribune of the people 
had seven crowns alternately 
placed on his head, assumed a 
long and pompous title, af- 
fected the aristocratic dignity of 
knighthood, and displayed him- 
self on festivals and days of pub-' 
lie audience seated on a lofty 
throne, with a sceptre in his 
hand, and cloathed in velvet or 
satin, weighty with ornaments 
of gold. 

He treated the Pope, the Em- 
peror and other sovereign princes 
with haughtiness, indignity and 
contempt; and this reformer of 
luxury, vice and corruption, fas- 
cinated by the delicacy or the 
novelty of a well covered table, 
degenerated into an epicure and 
a glutton. 

His enemies beheld this change 
with joy, the people with regret; 
and when once the tide of pO > 
pularity subsided, the faults of 
Rienzi were watched and aggra- 
vated by the scrutinizing eyes of 
envy and malignity : the stern 
severity of his justice was called 
cruelty, his liberality was deno- 
minated profusion and genero- 
sity at the expense of other peo- 
ple ; and the love of fame, which 
in all transactions, appeared the 
ruling passion of his soul, was 
ridiculed 



RIENZI. 



197 



ridiculed and satirized as igno- 
ble vanity, and unmanly osten- 
tation. 

The Tribune quickly perceived 
that he had lost the confidence 
of his original supporters, and 
that his inveterate enemies the 
nobles were intriguing and plot- 
ting against him. An insur- 
rection of his opponents attacked 
his authority under and almost 
within the walls of Rome ; the 
alarm bell was rung in vain; but 
the hour of enthusiasm and at- 
tachment were passed away, and 
after an ineffectual struggle, the 
once so popular and almost dei- 
fied and adored was obliged to 
fly from Rome. Alternately, a 
fugitive, an exile, and at last a 
prisoner in a papal dungeon at 
Avignon, Rienzi heard of the 
distracted state of his native city, 
and the return of its tyrants with 
pity and grief. 

After an absence of seven 
years, the reformer (zelator Ita- 
lic) was liberated, and sent with 
papal and senatorial authority to 
restore peace and tranquility to 
the city from which he had been 
driven. 

But the ardor of public spi- 
rit was cooled and repressed by 
adversity and experience. Cold 
distrust and hesitating doubt took 
the place of energy and un- 
bounded confidence. His vices 
had augmented in the same pro- 



portion that his integrity was 
diminished. His power and au- 
thority were resisted by a consi- 
derable number of his former 
adherents, aided by the profli- 
gate, the idle, and the poor, in- 
cited by the nobility, who de- 
tested Rienzi, and dreaded the 
restoration of the good old cause, ■ 
At length, after a four month's 
difficult administration, the Se- 
nator Rienzi was killed in a po- 
pular tumult. Such was the life 
and death of this extraordinary 
man; who seems to have pos- 
sessed talents admirably calcu- 
lated for reforming abuse, and 
concentrating the energies of the 
million to one fixed and settled 
purpose ; but^ he wanted self 
genial to resist the temptations 
which surround absolute power: 
and although Rienzi controuled 
and punished the oppressors of 
his country with spirit and ef- 
fect, he appears to have made a 
contemptible prince. After hav- 
ing- attained supreme power and 
driven out the destroyers, had he 
retired to his original private 
station, and committed his au- 
thority to pure and able hands, 
if any such at that unpropitious 
period could be found, his name 
would be handed down to pos- 
terity in a much more favorable 
point of view r . Major privatu dam 
pr w at us, et omnium consensu 
capax imperil, si non imperasset. 
For 



196 



RIPERDA. 



For the materials and a good 
part of this article, I am in- 
debted to Mjratori, to the com- 
pilation of two indefatigable Je- 
suits, Brumoy and Cerceau, and 
to Mr. Gibbon. The Memoirs 
by the two reverend fathers, a 
copy of which, now before me, 
and which appears to have been 
at a certain time the property of 
the English historian, are men- 
tioned in his notes; but Mura- 
tori's author, Fortifiocca, is ge- 
nerally referred to, in " The 
Decline and Fall of the Roman 
Empire." 

I IPERDA, a native of Gro- 
ningen, towards the close 
of the seventeenth century, for 
the materials of whose singular 
life and adventures we are in- 
debted to the late Dr. Campbell, 
and for many new facts to the 
ingenious rector of Bemerton. 

The last writer, admitted to 
sources of information which 
few private men can have any 
access to, has, in his apology 
for Sir Robert Walpole, per- 
formed the task committed to 
his care, in a dexterous and 
pleasing manner. 

It must be confessed that when 
the transactions of ministers and 
statesmen are to be delineated 
and laid before the public, a 
writer is placed in a situation 
peculiar and delicate ; more par- 



ticularly when those individuals, 
to whom he is indebted for im- 
portant papers, are immediate 
descendants from the illustrious 
persons whose history he writes. 

To investigate characters, and 
decide on measures, when party 
zeal, inflamed resentments, and 
family prejudice have not had 
time to cool, has been aptly com- 
pared by Horace, to treading on 
ashes, beneath which, unextin- 
guished fire is concealed : In 
such cases an author has a dim- 
cult part to act ; to avoid the 
bias of gratitude and private in- 
terest ; to speak not only truth 
but the whole truth ; to avoid 
exciting the malignity of power- 
ful enemies, but at the same 
time to preserve unblemished his 
integrity and literary reputation 
with the public. 

Riperda, the subject of my 
present page, inheriting from 
nature activity and acuteness, 
and uniting, to a warm imagi- 
nation, a more than moderate 
confidence in his own abilities, 
applied with indefatigable in- 
dustry to literature and sci- 
ence. 

After a well -planned and well- 
executed education, under the 
superintendance of his father, 
who was descended from a good 
familv in the province where he 
resided, the young man passed 
the earlier part of his life in the 
army, 



RIPERDA. 



army, in which he deserved and 
obtained promotion. 

His military progress, added 
a general knowledge of the 
world, and agreeable manners, to 
his more solid acquirements; but 
he suffered no pursuit either of 
business or of pleasure to inter- 
rupt the cultivation of his mind ; 
his morning hours were sacred, 
and while his associates in winter 
quarters were lost in the stupify- 
ing indolence of superfluous 
sleep, or in recovering from a 
nocturnal debauch, the more 
diligent Dutchman was trim- 
ming his early lamp. 

He exerted himself more pe- 
culiarly in procuring information 
on every subject directiy or re- 
motely connected with manu- 
factures and trade ; he made 
himself acquainted with the po- 
pulation and the wants of the 
different powers in Europe ; 
with the natural produce and 
raw materials each country 
yielded, and the various commo- 
dities which they were under the 
necessity of providing from their 
neighbours. 

Having formed himself pre- 
cisely for manag ^g the con- 
cerns of a mercantile country ; 
soon after the peace of Utrecht, 
he was appointed envoy from the 
United Provinces to the Court 
of Madrid, for the purpose of 
negociating a commercial treaty 
with the King of Spain. 



This complicated business he 
conducted with so much address, 
and turned his book knowledge, 
which men of business are so apt 
to think lightly of, to such good 
account, that he attracted the 
notice and procured the favor of 
Cardinal Alberoni, who from 
being a curate in the Dutchy of 
Parma, had by fortunate and 
well-improved incidents, gained 
the patronage of the Princess 
Ursini, and, was at the moment, 
Prime Minister of Spain. 

At Madrid he found Mr. 
Docidington, the subject of an 
article in a former volume of this, 
collection, who was sent on a 
fimilar business, by his master r 
the king of England. 

The English envoy better, 
skilled > in borough arrange- 
ments than the intricacies of 
foreign politics, derived so much 
benefit from the correct official 
statements and the authentic 
documents of Riperda, that he 
received many warm acknow- 
ledgments from Lord Towns- 
hend at that time a cabinet 
minister at the court of Lon- 
don, 

These flattering circumftances 
first occasioned the subject of 
our present article, to meditate 
establishing himself in Spain ; 
he was induced to this project 
by recollecting that it required 
no very consummate abilities to 
pass for a deep politician at Ma- 
drid, 



*00 



RIPERDA. 



drid, where many foreigners had 
been advanced to high honours 
and confidential trusts, who had 
no other recommendation, than 
a good voice, a dextrous ringer, 
a pleasing countenance, or a 
handsome leg. 

Finding the protestant religion 
a considerable impediment to 
his advancement, he publicly 
abjured the faith in which he 
had been educated, and was ea- 
gerly admitted into the Catholic 
church. 

This change of opinion or of 
profession, so favorable to his 
political career, does not appear, 
to have improved his morals ; 
for in a pecuniary transaction 
Riperda was accused of impos- 
ing on Mr. Doddington ; this 
ill-timed incident lost him Al- 
berom's favor, and he was soon 
after dismissed from the lucrative 
post of superintendant of a 
royal manufactory to which he 
had been appointed. 

The Dutchman always re- 
pelled this degrading accusation 
with spirit, insisting that the 
money received, ten thousand 
pistoles, was no more than a 
moderate reward for the import- 
ant diplomatic benefits he had 
conferred by advice and com- 
munication on the infant states- 
man, that being the appellation 
he bestowed on Mr. Doddington, 
alluding I apprehend, rather to 



his want of experience than 
years ; he asserted that part of 
the cash had been actually ex- 
pended, in obtaining secret in- 
telligence for the Englishman : 
Who shall decide when states- 
men disagree ? Sometimes in 
these collusions, a spark of 
truth, useful to honest men is 
struck out. 

Riperda observed that on this 
occasion, he had acted towards the 
unfledg'd envoy, as a prudent phy- 
sician would treat an illiberal and 
parsimonious patient,- who insi- 
diously picked out his opinions 
and advice during accidental 
conversations, without offering a 
fee, he had paid himself . 

It is not easy now to decide 
on the positive criminality, or 
relative equity of this trans- 
action ; it must, however, be 
confessed, that internal evidence, 
deduced from the subsequent 
conduct of Riperda, and the left- 
handed, characteristic cunning of 
his countrymen, who generally 
over-reach themselves, tell rather 
against him, 

But this obliquity of conduct, 
does not appear to have retarded 
his political progress; he joined 
the enemies of Alberoni ; and, 
in the place from w T hich he had 
been dismissed, having been 
kindly noticed by the royal fa- 
mily he still retained their favor; 
was frequently consulted by the 
principal 



RIPERDA. 



201 



principal secretary Grimaldo, 
and, what in Spain is an object of 
the first importance, Riperda 
became a favorite with the king's 
confessor. 

In this advantageous position, 
he intrigued and caballed against 
the cardinal; contributed pow- 
erfully towards his dismission ; 
and dazzled by the bright pros- 
pect which opened before him, 
confiding in superior abilities, or 
his personal influence with the 
king, he was ambitious of suc- 
ceeding the ex-minister. 

But when his appointment 
was proposed in council, strong 
representations were made a- 
gainst placing at the head of his 
majesty's administration an alien 
and a new convert from heresy, 
whose integrity was already sus- 
pected. 

A further discussion was de- 
layed by Philip's abdicating, the 
Spanish throne ; but when the 
royal seceder resumed his crown, 
Riperda was still his confidential 
favorite, and ingratiated himself 
more particularly with the queen, 
by promoting a marriage between 
Don Carlos, and an arch-duchess 
of the House of Austria. 

On this occasion he was sent 
ambassador to the emperor of 
Germany, and duringhis mission 
to Vienna, acquired considerable 
popularity, as well by the un- 
qualified warmth of his declara- 

VOL. IV. 



tions in favor of German con- 
nections; by the hospitality of 
his table, the splendour of his 
retinue, and the punctuality of 
his payments. 

A new system of politics, 
different views, and, probably, 
the pecuniary embarras with 
Mr. Doddington, gradually es- 
tranged him from his former 
attachment to England, and he 
poured forth a foul stream of 
virulent invective against this 
country for hesitating to fulfil 
her engagements, one of which 
he positively insisted was an 
immediate and unqualified ces- 
sion of the important fortress of 
Gibraltar. 

In reply, it was acknowledged 
that the subject had been pressed 
by the Spanish minister, and a 
promise made to take it into 
consideration; but when the 
outrageous statesman was in- 
formed that in Great Britain the 
will of a sovereign, or the wishes 
of his minister, are impotent and 
ineffectual without parliamentary 
concurrence, he burst into pas- 
sionate, vehement and unbecom- 
ing expressions ; threatened that 
he would land twenty thousand 
men in Scotland, send home the 
elector of Hanover, and place 
the lawful sovereign, a legitimate 
descendant of king James the 
second on the English throne. 

Having concluded with the 
d d emperor 



208 



RIPERDA. 



emperor a treaty, by which the 
king and queen of Spain were 
highly gratified, he hastened to 
Madrid, where he was received 
with rapturous acknowledg- 
ments ; but he treated his friend 
Grimaldo with ungrateful cold- 
ness, and the day after his arri- 
val, was appointed to succeed 
him as principal secretary of 
state ; he transacted business at 
the council-board and with fo- 
reign ambassadors, thus enjoy- 
ing the uncontrouled authority 
of Alberoni, without the name 
of prime minister. 

But it was soon found with all 
his predominating address and 
eminent talents, that he was 
unfit for the high office he filled ; 
that he was vain, turbulent, and 
insolent ; without regularity, 
prudence, moderation, or con- 
sistency of conduct ; in a word, 
that he was .a character I have 
often had occasion to delineate 
and to lament in this collection ; 
possessing great powers and 
splendid attainments, but want- 
ing prudence and common sense. 

The king by more frequent 
intercourse soon saw the defici- 
ency of Riperda in these indis- 
pensible requisites, and in a 
short time he ceased to be a 
favorite. 

It is not improbable that the 
minister became giddy from the 
height to which he was ele- 



vated ; being hated by the offi- 
cers of state who were obliged 
to attend him, and detested by 
the people, his situation was 
awkward and perilous; vet at a 
crowded levee he had the folly 
or the assurance to exclaim, " I 
know that the whole kingdom is 
irritated against me, but their 
malice I defy ; safe under the 
protection of God, the blessed 
Virgin, and the goodness of my 
intentions." 

The general aversion every 
day increasing, and Riperda's 
imprudence keeping pace with 
his unpopularity, it was found 
necessary to remove him. His 
dismission, according to the 
usual court etiquette, being 
called a resignation, and his 
temper smoothed by a liberal 
pension. 

But this pacific treatment had 
no effect in quieting the exaspe- 
rated Dutchman ; his angry 
passions raged with unabated 
furv, and he vowed eternal ven- 
geance against a country so blind 
to his merits. 

Being possessed of secrets, 
which the English ministry were 
anxious to become acquainted 
with, he opened a clandestine 
intercourse with the English 
ambassador, Stanhope; his for- 
mer friend Doddington having 
been recalled. 

The curses of the people art- 
fully 



RIPERDA. 



203 



fully fomented by his enemies, 
were by this time not only deep 
but loud ; he was fearful of an 
attack on his person, and he 
fled to that gentleman's house. 

His intrigues with England, 
and other hostile designs being 
now discovered, he was dragged 
from his retreat, taken into cus- 
tody, and imprisoned in the 
cattle of Segovia. 

Taking advantage of the in- 
firmity or the neglect of his 
keepers, and assisted by a female 
domestic, who first pitying had 
then loved him, he bribed a 
nocturnal sentinel and by means 
of a rope ladder effected his 
escape. 

With these companions, and 
after a long, anxious, and fa- 
tiguing journey, he reached 
Oporto, and embarked without 
delay for England, where he was 
received with respect and atten- 
tion by the king's ministers. 

But when Sir Robert Wal- 
pole had gained from the fugitive 
every necessarv information, he 
was gradually neglected, and, as 
is the case with all betrayers of 
their trust, at last despised, even 
by those who had derived ad- 
vantage from his treachery. 

A man like Riperda who had 
directed national councils, and 
been listened to by kings, who 
abounded in pride, and swelled 
with indignation, could nst but 



feel this degraded situation most 
acutely; after two years passed 
in the English metropolis, in 
unavailing impatience, passion 
and regret, but with undimin- 
ished hatred against every thing- 
Spanish, he withdrew to Hol- 
land. 

In that republic he found an 
agent from Barbary, who, being 
acquainted with his story, con- 
ceived that his thirst for ven- 
geance might be made product- 
ive of important advantages to 
the sovereign by whom he was 
employed. 

This person was an envoy 
from that barbarian whom we 
condescend to call the emperor of 
Morocco; he assured Riperda, 
that all his efforts in Europe 
would be ineffectual, in conse- 
quence of the important changes 
which had recently taken place 
in continental politics ; but that 
on the borders of his master's 
territories in Africa, he might 
annoy his enemies, and gratify 
his revenge most effectually ; 
that he would there possess the 
advantage of a geographical po- 
sition, in which to defeat the 
Spaniards would be to extermi- 
nate them, and that he would 
receive ample rewards from a 
grateful ally stimulated by the 
hereditary impulse of eternal ha- 
tred and national antipathy. 

Riperda heard and was con- 
n d 2 vinced 



£0i 



RIPERDA. 



vinccd ; revenge the most in- 
fernal but most seducing of all 
our crimes, quickening all his 
meafures and smoothing every 
difficulty, with the two com- 
panions of his flight he sailed 
for Africa, and after a prosperous 
voyage announced his arrival 
and the object of his views to 
the emperor Muly Abdallah, 
who eagerly accepted his ser- 
vices. 

The Dutchman, who like his 
countrymen, for a productive 
cargo would have trod on the 
cross at Japan, embraced the 
Mahometan faith, adopted the 
dress, conformed to the manners 
and gained the esteem of that 
African chief. 

In less than two months, he 
was advanced to the post of 
prime minister, and shortly after 
appointed commander in chief 
of his forces, with unusual dis- 
cretionary powers. 

The new general animated by 
the spur of the occasion, lost no 
time in improving the army 
placed under his guidance, by 
every means in his power. 

He represented to Abdallah, 
the inefficiency of the desultory 
and irregular modes of attack 
generally practised by the Moors, 
by which although at their first 
onset, they sometimes break 
down all before them, are if 
they fail, generally productive of 



irrecoverable confusion, slaugh- 
ter, and defeat. 

With the emperor's permis- 
sion, Riperda, for so I continue 
to call him, although the rene- 
gado had assumed another name : 
with the emperor's permission 
he rigidly enforced the severe 
maxims of European tactics, 
silent and prompt obedience, 
irresistible energy, patient and 
cool dexterity ; which at the 
mouth of a cannon, the mount- 
ing a breach, or the springing of 
a mine, convert an otherwise 
unmanageable mob, into a com- 
pact magic machine various in 
form, but of tremendous power ; 
a widely spread line, a hollow 
square, a wedge, a column or a 
platoon. 

Thus improved and thus di- 
rected, the Barbarians attacked 
the Spaniards, and irrecoverably 
defeated them ; their leader was 
created a bashaw, and died at 
Tetuan, in extreme old age, 
some time in the year 1737. 

Such was Riperda, one of the 
numerous instances occurring in 
this book, and every day in that 
more important book, the world ; 
with a strong mind and talents 
improved by assiduous cultiva- 
tion, placed on elevated ground, 
and possessing a considerable 
share of book-learning, and no 
small portion of general and 
local information, he missed the 
high 



SEMIRAMIS. 



205 



high road to happiness ; all his 
parts, and all his acquirements, 
did not guard him against obli- 
quity and crooked policy, which 
in this as in most instances ge- 
nerally defeat their own purpose. 
He is one added to the many in- 
stances, which pointedly prove 
after all the contrivances of cun- 
ning and the deep stratagems 
of finesse, that Honesty is 
the best Policy ; that her 
ways are ways of pleasant- 
ness, and all her paths are 

PEACE. 

SEMIRAMIS, a tragedy, 
translated from the French 
by a military man to whom I 
have applied the term Ccerulean 
in a former volume, 

I mention it in this place to 
prove, that there were persons in 
the world who agreed with me 
in opinion concerning the person 
in question, as my mode of in- 
troducing him in the late Lord 
Lyttleton's article, has been 
termed cruel and unchristian. 

This dramatic performance 
afforded an opportunity to a 
satirical poet to lash the writer 
in that masterly but unjustifia- 
ble poem the Diaboliad. 

Among the various candidates 
who offer to fill the- vacant 
throne of hell, which forms the 
plan of the poem, the young 
peer of unhappy memory is in- 
troduced, and with him the well 



known individual whom I am 
accused of defaming. 

u Behind him came, in regi- 
mentals drest, 

The brazen gorget hanging at 
his breast, 

Th' officious captain, ready to 
obey, 

Whate'er might be the business 
of the day. 

With solemn look the conscious 
peer began, 

Thus to address the military 
man ; 

" Friend, cousin 

— . — — Together when we 

stray'd 
Through vice's public walk and 

private shade} 
I found thee apt in every artful 

wile, 
Proud to defame and eager to 

beguile ; 
When to give life to Sunday's 

tedious hour, 
We wish'd to make the pedant 

parson low'r, 
To make the simple stare, the 

virtuous sigh, 
Your tongue pour'd forth the 

ready blasphemy ; 
Whene'er I wanted falsehood to 

supply 
The place of truth, you found 

the ready lie 



Have 



206 



SHIPWRECK OF SAINT PAUL. 



Have we not done these ills and 

many more ? 
Swear sir — — — — 
By Egypt's queen th' obsequious 

captain swore ; 
The queen, who lur'd him to 

disgrace his cloth, 
And gave him bread; now serv'd 

him for an oath.'* 

This short extract with other 
reasons I could give, proves that 
I was not very much mistaken 
in my man ; so harsh a portrait 
in a poem at the time very gene- 
rally popular, and which went 
through many editions, if there 
had not been truth and justice 
in the outline, would have been 
formally contradicted. 

SHIPWRECK OF SAINT 
PAUL. The precise spot 
which was the scene of the dis- 
aster of this apostle, who was 
first a persecutor, and afterwards 
a convert to Christianity, has ex- 
ercised the critical powers -of 
modern writers and geographers ; 
the island of Malta, lately deliv- 
ered from the fraternal embraces 
of our French neighbours by the 
arms of England, has been con- 
sidered by the majority as the 
island on which the ship was 
stranded. 

But in the eighteenth century, 
an ingenious well written dis- 
sertation, and in Latin, worthy 



of the Augustan age, was pub- 
lished by a learned Benedictine, 
a native and inhabitant of the 
island of Meleda, situated in the 
Adriatic sea, and not far from 
Rag usa. 

In this work, the holy father 
insists that the place of his 
birth was the land on which the 
miraculous escapes of the chris- 
tian prisoner were exhibited; 
and it must be confessed that 
some of his arguments by which 
the hypothesis is supported, have 
considerable weight. 

He proves that Meleda, in the 
age of the apostles was called 
Melita; that the island of Malta, 
properly speaking is not in the 
Adriatic sea ; that the wind cal- 
led Euroclidon, a south east not 
a north east wind, as it has been 
sometimes described, could not 
have driven a bark, sailing from 
the coast of Palestine to Italy, 
on the rocky shores of Malta ; 
and lastly that the term Barba- 
rian, applied in the New Testa- 
ment to the inhabitants of the 
island where St. Paul was ship- 
wrecked, was and is perfectly- 
applicable to the inhabitants of 
the coast on which Meleda is 
situated, but could not in any 
sense be properly applied to 
the Greeks who inhabited Malta. 

This author further assert? 

that there are no quicksands, 

such as St. Paul describes, near 

Maka 



SIEGE OF A FORTRESS. 



207 



Malta, but that they are fre- 
quently met with, and occasion 
the loss of many ships, off the 
southerly point of Meleda. 

The apostle's being bit by a 
venomous serpent is another cir- 
cumstance produced against the 
possibility of Malta being the 
island in question ; as none ex- 
ist in it; and he observes, that 
the earth of this famous rock, 
with which it is so thinly covered, 
is a specific remedy for the hites 
of such reptiles in general. 

In Meleda, vipers of a malig- 
nant species abound, and their 
bite is often attended with fatal 
consequences. 

In answer to those who insist 
that Mai tabeing free from venom- 
ous reptiles was owing to the mira- 
culous interposition of St, Paul, 
it may be and is observed that a 
miracle of such importance, had 
it taken place, would surely have 
been recorded by Saint Luke, as 
well as the cure of Publius, and 
the minute circumstance of the 
flag borne by the ship. 

To conclude, in the words of 
this well-informed Benedictine, 
Ignatio Giorgi ; those who sup- 
port the commonlv received opi- 
nion that Malta is the spot, must 
allow the Adriatic Sea to extend 
to that island ; that a ship was 
driven to the south by a south- 
east wind ; that the inhabitants 



of a place inhabited by Greeks 
aud Romans were Barbarians; 
and that Saint Paul was bitten 
by a viper in an insulated coun- 
try where vipers never existed. 

SIEGE OF A FORTRESS. 
It has been lamented by a 
modern writer, that it costs as 
much to besiege a city as to found 
a colony ; yet when we recollect 
the destruction and bloodshed 
which generally take place on 
such occasions, this reflection 
should seem to be a source of 
consolation, rather than re- 
gret ; as heroes, whom no mo- 
tives of humanity can restrain, 
are often deterred from perse- 
vering in their career of ambi- 
tion by exhausted finances. 

The business of taking places 
indeed has been rendered by the 
skill of engineers a matter of 
arithmetical calculation, and has 
been thought a business of such 
certainty and mathematical de^ 
monstration, that a paper was 
said to be found in the cabinet 
of a modern general who died a 
few years ago, on which was 
written an alphabetical list of all 
the strong holds in Europe, ar- 
ranged in columns, similar to a 
military return, with spaces ap- 
propriate to each, in which the 
money, number of lives, and 
quantity of ammunition neces- 
sarv 



208 



SIEGE OF A FORTRESS. 



sary to be sacrificed, but which 
would certainly succeed, were 
mentioned. 

It was the opinion of this gen- 
tleman that there was no place, 
defile, or position however guard- 
ed by nature and art, which 
might not be carried by a gene- 
ral resolved to employ all possi- 
ble means in attaining his end ; 
who would beset a garrison so 
closely till their diseases or the 
death of his own men had pro- 
duced contagion ; who on being 
told that materials for advancing 
and forming lines of contra-val- 
lation, parapets, &c. could not 
be p;ocured, on account of the 
rocky nature of the soil, would 
coolly reply, <f you c-mnot sure- 
ly want materials, with such 
numbers of dead bodies ; use 
them without delay, it will save 
the labour of the pick -axe and 
the spade, and we shall have 
great plenty ;" or finally, who 
sending a detachment of eight 
hundred men, on the forlorn 
hope, and being asked why he 
detached so many, answered that 
the besieged could not be tempted 
to spring a mine for a less num- 
ber ; that the mine must at all 
events be sprung, or nothing 
could be done ; as during the 
noise, smoke, and confusion, he 
proposed an assault in a distant 
spot; that as to the men who 
wens killed olF, he acted upon a 



certainty, having an accurate re- 
turn of the number of the be- 
sieged, and he was able to last 
them out. 

To such a commander, who 
would pile iip the bodies of his 
slaughtered troops, till they over- 
topped the Rock of Gibraltar, or 
choak the Rhine with their mu- 
tilated corses, till he had made 
it fordable, what is impossible ? 

On the subject of sieges, it 
would be an useful object of in- 
vestigation to enumerate the va- 
rious substances which in case 
of famine or scarcity would af- 
ford a temporary support to ani- 
mal life. 

The prejudices of persons who 
have never tasted it are strong 
against the use of the flesh of 
horses as an article of diet ; but 
experience has proved it to be 
salutary and nutritious: nor is 
there any reason for doubting 
whether dogs, cats, rats, mice, 
and particularly snails come un- 
der a similar description. 

In case of a total deprivation 
of the usual means of subsist- 
ence, starving might be effectu- 
ally prevented by large earth- 
worms, cleaned and scoured in 
moss ; by beetles, scaraboei, 
locusts, and by frogs, which 
however revolting to a republican 
stomach, made an excellent ra- 
gout under the ancien regime', 
by leather, purified by water 
from 



SKELTON, JOHN. 



209 



from the ingredients of the tan- 
ner and the currier; by horn, 
ivory, and bones; by pasteboard, 
paper, papier machee, glue, can- 
dles, oil, and soap deprived by 
an easy process of its caustic 
alkaly, and by quills; by the 
bark of trees, by nuts of almost 
every kind, by acorns, mast, 
and by the roots of a variety of 
vegetables, particularly those of 
beet, comfrey, and marsh mal- 
lows. 

But under so aweful a visita- 
tion, not only what, but how 
muck would keep a human crea- 
ture alive becomes an object of 
considerable importance. 

In several parts of this collec- 
tion, I have ventured to think, 
that many persons, who consider 
themselves as moderate eaters, 
generally speaking, feed too freely. 
And although a diet rigidly ab- 
stemious and extremely attenu- 
ated would not be favourable to 
laborious exertion, I am of opi- 
nion that in a situation where 
the lives of a number of persons 
depended on making their store 
of provision endure as long as 
possible, where to keep alive ra- 
ther than to feast and carouse 
was the object, the human body 
might subsist on the sixteenth 
part of what we consume in the 
ordinary meals of peace and 
plenty. An instance strongly 
corroborating this assertion oc- 



curs in the article Christian, 
who with his mutinous asso 
ciates took possession of a king's 
ship commanded by Captain 
Bligh. On this occasion, but 
for the prudent system of res- 
traint and self-denial recom- 
mended by that officer, he and his 
associates must have perished. 

SKELTON, JOHN, a sati- 
rical poet, of considerable 
abilities, and Rector of Dysse, 
in Norfolk, in the reign of King 
Henry the Eighth, to whom he 
had been tutor, and was after- 
wards orator 3 or rather poet lau- 
reat. 

Possessing quick discernment, 
keen wit, and genuine humour, 
which, as rs the nature of all 
humour, was sometimes gross, 
and sometimes inelegant, — for- 
getting that principibus placuisse 
viris was the maxim which con- 
dueled Horace so comfortably 
through life, and that panegyric 
was in fact the staple commodity 
of his office, Skelton lashed 
without mercy the errors and 
corruptions of the Church of 
Rome, the vices of the monks, 
and the indolence of the clergy* 
His writings, as generally hap- 
pens with personal satire, were * 
quickly purchased and eagerly 
perused by the very persons who 
were afterwards the most forward 
to vilify, traduce, and persecute 
the man who composed them. 
E e Having 



no 



SKELTON, JOHN. 



Having created many ene- 
mies, he was cautioned not to 
persist in a course so dangerous; 
but stimulated by the headstrong 
Spirit of untameable vivacity, 
which hurries so many of us 
into folly and embarrassment, 
he persevered in laughing at, 
and as one of his contemporaries 
figuratively expresses it, biting 
persons of all ranks. 

Cardinal Wolsey, who had 
often enjoyed the company and 
conversation of Skelton, so long 
as he made a joke of others, could 
not bear to be ridiculed himself. 

This haughty ecclesiastic was 
at length offended, by a convi- 
vial song, written by the poet, 
in which the amorous propen- 
sities of the Cardinal were hu- 
mourously but not malignantly 
displayed. 

This raillery the ambitious 
prelate (who thought that wealth 
and elevation should have pro- 
tected his vices) could not forgive. 
Skelton was suspended from his 
clerical functions, and would have 
been otherwise punished, but he 
fled from the vengeance of Wol- 
sey, and took refuge in the 
sanctuary of Westminster. 

In this place, he was hospi- 
tably entertained by John Islip, 
the worthy and respectable ab- 
bot, who inculcating the Chris- 
tian lessons of charity and can- 
dour, taught our fugitive poet 



the necessity of moderation, for- 
bearance, and discretion ; but in 
this as in most instances Skel- 
ton did not become a convert to 
Islip's salutary doctrines till he 
had paid the penalties of impru- 
dence. 

He lived many years, and died 
in this species of imprisonment, 
in 1529* a useful example for 
writers of his description. One 
circumstance took place, which 
probably alleviated in some de- 
gree his regret ; he had the satis- 
faction of seeing the power and 
influence of his inveterate enemy 
decline, and the favourite minis- 
ter banished to the North. 

Skelton's attacks on men and 
things were answered by Alex- 
ander Barclay, vicar of Baddow, 
in Essex, and editor of " The 
Ship of Fools j" a work with 
wooden cuts, famous in its day, 
and now in great estimation with 
collectors, translated by Barclay, 
from the Navis Narragonl^i 
of Sebastian Brant, an inhabi- 
tant of Strasburgh, towards the 
close of the fifteenth century. 

Pope, who with all his excel- 
lencies could never forgive any 
thing like enmity or disrespect 
towards the Catholic Church, 
censures the subject ef my pre- 
sent article for a want of delicacy 
and decorum. 

This common method of abus- 
ing a man for one supposed 
fault 



SKELTON, JOHN. 



211 



fault when he has incurred our 
resentment by some other pro- 
ceeding, this reprehension is re- 
markable in Pope, who was 
highly culpable in this respect 
himself. 

Had the Norfolk rector been 
living, he might have told our 
great English poet and with 
truth, that there were numerous 
passages in his works not only 
grossly indecent, but rendered 
still more dangerous by harmo- 
nious language, poetic imagery, 
voluptuous wishes, and luxuriant 
descriptions. 

Although abused by Pope, 
Skelton was patronised by the 
literary Earl of Northumberland ; 
he enjoyed the friendship and 
deserved the approbation of Eras- 
mus, who calls him Britannica- 
rum artium lumen. 

" Elvnor Rumming, the 
famous Ale-wife of England," 
one of his productions, passed 
through several editions ; the title 
page exhibits a portrait of that 
ancient matron, holding in her 
hand a pot of ale; an article 
which she is said to have sold in 
large quantities, and of excel- 
lent quality. 

Skelton also wrote an inter- 
lude, or as performances of 
that kind were then called a 
morality, called " The Nicro- 
mansir," which, as the title 
expresses, (London, 1504,) was 



played before King Henry the 
Seventh, and other estatys, at 
Woodstoke, on a Palm Sun- 
day. 

There was also another mora- 
lity of Skelton's in the collection 
of the late excellent David Gar- 
rick, called " A Story in Verse 
of the sudden Death of King 
Edward the Fourth, in the Midst 
of his Prosperity :" though writ- 
ten by Skelton, it is printed in a 
compilation' much read in those 
days, and called i( A Mirror 
for Magistrates," being a 
series of historical poetry, relat- 
ing the acts of unfortunate Eng» 
lishmen, commencing with the 
fall of Robert Tresilian, Chief 
Justice of England, and ending 
with George Plantagenet, third 
son of the Duke of York, pub- 
lished in 155Q by William Bald- 
win, a west countryman born. 

Lilly the grammarian was a 
fierce antagonist against Skelton; 
in the controversy between them, 
he took occasion to tell the sati- 
rical poet, " that he lost the me- 
rit of his wit by its biting, that 
his laughter was opprobrious and 
scornful, his jokes bitter, sharp, 
and reflecting. " 

To the schoolmaster, Skelton 
might have replied in the words 
of poor Foot, the mimic, and 
printed in his article : " By that 
reproof which offends no man, 
no man was ever amended" 
e e 2 STERNHOLD, 



212 



STERNHOLD, THOMAS. 



STERNHOLD, THOMAS, 
a Hampshire man born, 
who finished his education at 
Oxford. 

From the University he re- 
paired to London, and attended 
the court of King Henry the 
Ei. hth, by whom he was ap- 
pointed Groom of the Robes, and 
afterwards remembered in his 
will ; he continued in the same 
office under King Edward the 
Sixth, but being a man of sound 
morals and a correct taste, was 
scandalized at the obscene sjngs 
made use of by his contempora- 
ries and associates. To remedy 
this evil, and being esteemed for 
a pleasant vein of poetry, he 
turned into English metre fifty- 
one of David's Psalms, to which 
he procured popular and agree- 
able notes to be set, hoping 
thereby to entice the gay sparks 
of the town from their lewd and 
mischievous sonnets. It is to be 
lamented, that in this laudable ef- 
fort he did not altogether succeed. 

Sternhold's method of pro- 
ceeding was imitated by a mo* 
dern enthusiast, Mr. Whitfield, 
who seeing with regret that the 
Jower classes were often attracted 
by the ribaldry sung in the 
streets, in consequence of its be- 
ing recommended by the anima- 
tion of well adapted airs, bor- 
rowed them of the ballad-singers, 
and set many sacred songs, 



hymns, and psalms to popular 
melodies, observing at the same 
time, and in his way, " The 
Devil shall not have all the good 
tunes.'* By these means he 
enticed many wanderers to the 
tabernacle, and considerably for- 
warded the progress of Metho- 
dism. Stemhold's associate and 
contemporary in laying the foun- 
dation of religious psalmody was 
John Hopkins, called by Bale 
poetarum Britannice sui temporis 
non irtfimus. 

William Whittingham, Dean 
of Durham, and Thomas Nor- 
ton, a busy Calvmist, also lent 
their aid in this version, called 
by a late writer, a per version of 
the Psalms of David. 

The poetical effusions of the 
King of Israel are said to have 
experienced better treatment 
from Clement Marot, Page to 
Francis the First, King of France, 
from Beza, and from Buchanan, 
the poet, of Scotland; yet the 
parody of that psalm, by Stern- 
hold, in which are the following 
words : — 
(e And on the wings of mighty 

winds, 
" Came flying all abroad," 
is said to have been praised and 
envied by Pope. 

The performances of Sternhold 
and Hopkins, as sung by the pa- 
rish clerk of a church which Lord 
Rochester accidentally attended, 
could 



STOMACH and HEAD. 



213 



could not escape the profane 

mirth of that witty but licentious 

peer. 

Sternho'ld and Hopkins had great 

qualms 
When they translated David's 

Psalms, 
To make the heart full glad ; 
But had it been poor David's 

fate 
To hear thee sing and them 

translate, 
It must have made him mad. 
TOMACH and HEAD.— 
Sedentary men, invalids, 
and others often find it difficult 
to observe a salutary medium in 
their attention to these important 
parts of the animal ceconomy, 
these main springs of human life. 

While hearty meals and ge- 
nerous living promote good fel- 
lowship, and replenish exhausted 
nature, a fullness of blood fre- 
quently takes place afterwards, 
inconsistent with ease and com- 
fort, and often productive of se- 
rious mischief to that minute and 
delicate system called the brain, 
concerning which we have so 
much to learn. 

On the other hand, a diet ve- 
getable, low, vapid, and unsub- 
stantial, long persisted in, will be 
followed by debility, flatulency, 
ill digestion, and a train of symp- 
toms to which the term hypo- 
chondriacal has been given. 

These and other difficulties 



have probably been encountered 
by the readers of this article, fre- 
quently by the man who compiles 
it; but as every one is said to be 
a fool or a physician at forty, 
and as it is not certain which of 
these denominations is applicable 
to the editor, he ventures on the 
faith of a popular London prac- 
titioner to recommtnd to general 
attention a few positions, estab- 
lished by 3<> years observation on 
his own constitution; their not 
being new cannot in any point 
of view diminish their importance. 

Ail sudden and great changes 
in diet, cloathing, exercise, and 
confirmed habits, whether of 
body or mind, are injurious. 

Contrary to general opinion, 
as well as to individual feeling, 
the head is found to resist the 
evils of fullness if followed with 
constant exercise, and a moist 
skin, much longer and with less 
inconvenience than the stomach 
can recover from the nauseating 
and debilitating effects of a vio- 
lent saline purge, or the inanition 
consequent on a long course of 
spoon meat, and a thin, atte- 
nuating diet. 

There is an intimate and in- 
separable connection between 
the passions of the mind and the 
digestive organs. Any violent 
impression on the sensor ium, in 
consequence of inordinate indul- 
gence, whether of anger, of love, 
of 



514 



STOMACH and HEAD. 



or intemperance, will be inevi- 
tably followed by a proportio- 
nate weakness of that system of 
vessels or of cords which has 
been robbed of its share of tone. 

A certain quantity of nervous 
energy seems to be measured out 
to every man, which is distri- 
buted by almighty ^wisdom in 
fair portions to every branch of 
the human body. 

But should one part consume, 
(if I may be allowed the term) 
if one part consumes more 
than its allotted share of this 
(Btherial fire, some other limb 
must be and is deprived of a 
proportionate quantity ; of course 
its functions in the human ma- 
chine must be and are in the 
same degree interrupted and dis- 
turbed : and this injury generally 
speaking is most felt by the di- 
gestive organs, and repaired with 
the greatest difficulty. The zea- 
lous devotees to Bacchus and to 
Venus, also persons who allow 
themselves in an habitual and 
unjustifiable indulgence of the 
angry and malignant passions to 
the utmost pitch of their bent, 
will do well to recollect and ap- 
ply this invariable law of the 
animal ceconomy, or they will 
pay a severe penalty. 

As exercise is the parent of 
health, and acts more particu- 
larly on the stomach and lungs, 
he is a wise man who though 



above the pressure of want places 
within his reach a constant source 
of manual labor, which he may 
commence at pleasure, and lay 
down when he chooses. 

To answer the purpose of sa- 
lutary incitement, the occupa- 
tion I recommend must be di- 
rectly or collaterally connected 
with profit, utility, convenience, 
or delight; it must be of a kind 
that requires a combination of 
actual toil, considerable difficul- 
ty, and moderate skill. 

The sports of the field seem 
to offer a fertile and unexcep- 
tionable fund of stimulating 
amusement and exhilirating ex- 
ercise; but to pursue or to enjoy 
them in perfection generally re- 
quires a strength of nerve and a 
flow of animal spirits seldom 
possessed or attainable by inva- 
lids ; they sometimes lead to riot 
and excess, and it is not every 
valetudinarian who can afford to 
keep a hunter, or carries a qua- 
lification in his pocket. 

The gestation of a carriage or 
a horse, the taking a ride or an 
airing for the mere purpose of 
health, although a most invalua- 
ble blessing, has been found not 
sufficient to rouze to salutary 
energy a mind languid with long 
application, or a body reduced 
by vicious excess. 

These desirable objects seem 
to be all comprehended in agri- 
culture. 



STOMACH and HEAD. 



215 



culture, now so usefully and ho- 
nourably patronised and practised 
by our nobility and gentry ; but 
I have known the wished for 
purposes defeated in consequence 
of angry passions being called 
forth by the irritating impositions 
of the subordinate instruments 
employed. The gentleman 

WHO CHOOSES TO FARM HIS 
OWN LAND MUST EXPECT AND 
QUIETLY SUBMIT TO A CERTAIN 
PORTION OF FRAUD, OR LET HIM 
NOT TAKE THE PLOUGH IN 
HAND. 

It is, I believe, generally agreed, 
that we all eat and perhaps frink 
too much ; I therefore propose 
to every man, who finds it diffi- 
cult to sit down to a well covered 
table without indulging too free- 
ly, I propose to such persons, 
more particularly to those subject 
to a fulness of the vessels of the 
head, with short necks, and 
whose digestion is a laborious 
process, I earnestly recommend 
to such persons on the faith of 
experience and good effect a fast 
or ban yan day once a week ; I 
mean an abstinence on the whole 
of that day from wine, spirits, 
fermented liquors, and animal 
food. 

By this occasional but whole- 
some self-denial, the mental as 
well as corporal functions will 
be greatly improved, and the 
hardship will be trifling when 



we recollect what a variety of 
materials the vegetable world af- 
fords to a skilful artist, particu- 
larly during the summer months, 
when abstemiousness in diet is 
more particularly necessary. 

I well remember once drop-* 
ping in, after a long summer's 
ride, at the house of a gentleman, 
the untimely death and funeral 
of whose son is mentioned in 
some part of this compilation ; 
the page and arricle I cannot 
now call to my recollection. 

Complaining of the excessive 
heat, the family acknowledged 
they had felt the same, and in- 
formed me that they had all 
agreed excepting the young man 
whose fate I then foresaw and 
afterwards lamented to make a 
vegetable dinner; after a momen- 
tary hesitation, I agreed, fared 
luxuriously, and had a composed 
and refreshing night's rest, which 
for certain reasons had not been 
my good fortune for a week be- 
fore. This is a circumstance 
which full feeders ought not to 
forget, that restless nights and 
disturbed sleep are the constant 
effect of eating too much. 

I cannot help mentioning the 
dinner of my school-fellow, who 
had been persuaded but in vain 
to take family fare. Observing 
that it was a broiling day in 
July, his repast commenced witfc 
a tolerable quantity of rich gravy 
soup; 



216 



STOMACH and HEAD. 



soup; this was followed by a 
plate not ill covered with fish; 
beet-steaks, accompanied with a 
bitter lamentation that he had 
no oyster sauce succeeded, and 
received ample justice from his 
knife and fork , with intermin- 
gled draughts ot spruce beer. 

The cork of this boisterous 
and unmanageable fluid he in- 
sisted should be drawn at his 
elbow, (or it would not be worth 
drinking J to the detriment of 
the cloaths of the company, the 
carpet, and the cieling of the 
eating room, which received a 
considerable share of the froth. 
He concluded with a large quan- 
tity of pudding and pastry, 
which to humour the vegetable 
dinner appeared in various deli- 
cious forms on the board. 

Alter the cloth was removed, 
andthe servants had retired, recol- 
lecting that the fruit tarts he 
had been eating would spoil his 
relish for port, he rung the bell 
violently, and ordered a devil, 
but was bribed not to eat it by 
a piece of Parmesan, and a 
promise that his mother and sis- 
ter would immediately accom- 
pany him to the kennel, to visit 
a litter or' puppies, born the day 
before : both ladies kept their 
words. 

But it is time to finish an ar- 
ticle, which mayp erhaps be cen- 
sured as ill-timed and ill-placed 



in a collection like this ; but as 
closely connected with the health 
and happiness of man, it surely 
becomes a legitimate object of 
discussion : I therefore conclude 
with a prescription written more 
than twenty- five years ago, by 
Dr. Fothergill, for the editor, 
upon the principle of not losing 
one drop of that immortal man, 
and as it was for a violent head- 
ache closely connected with a 
stomach complaint, both evi- 
dently produced by imprudently 
eating and drinking too much, 
and accompanied with two con- 
tradictory feelings, excessive ful- 
ness of the vessels, an unman- 
ning debility and relaxation of 
the whole frame. 

Take of prepared calomel ten 
grains, golden sulphur of anti- 
mony two scruples, Rufus's pill 
one drachm ; to be made into 
20 pills. Two pills to be taken 
every night discretionally. 

This medicine operating as a 
mild purgative, without lower- 
ing, worked a cure, after a va- 
riety of applications and other 
physicians had been tried in 
vain. 

In the short visit I made as a 
patient in Harpur-street, for he 
could not afford time for long 
conversations, water - drinking 
was mentioned. On this sub-' 
ject, the good doctor observed, 

u THOSE WHO ARE ABLE AND 
WILLING 



STOMACH and HEAD. 



217 



WILLING TO DRINK WATER, AND 
WATER ONLY, SHOULD VALUE 
THE PRIVILEGE. " 

A medical gentleman whose 
stomach and head were seldom 
free from pain and distension, 
found so much relief from chew- 
ing rhubarb that he celebrated 
its praises in the following verses : 

For many nights I've prov'd the 

fate 
And various changes of a state; 
One. moment calm like April 

morn, 
The next with wars intestine torn. 

My stomach, urg'd by armed 

* force, 

Seem'd lab'ring like the Trojan 

horse. 
I rise in pain, and call for aid ; 
A legion comes ; but sore afraid. 
In general Jallap I've no hope, 
He's quick, 'tis true, but runs 

like Cope. 
Picra is staunch, but then he's 

slow, 
And flags like Wade intrench'd 

in sttow. 
Sena, if uncorrected, goes, 
And wounds his friends as well 

as foes. 
Rhubarb all hail, I've chosen 

you, 
T attack and rout the rebel 

crew : 
Whene'er he comes all foes must 

yield, 

VOL. IV. 



They own his power and quit 

the field. 
Noblest of roots all hail again, 
Thou sov'reign cure of all my 

pain ; 
But for thy helping, my abode 
Wou'd now be in the land of 

Nod. 

I quit the present subject, 
which some readers may think 
preposterous and absurd, in a 
work like this, with one obser- 
vation on the subject of spiri- 
tuous liquors. 

To pain, fulness, and uneasi- 
ness of the stomach, literary and 
of course, sedentary persons are 
of all men most subject ; to re- 
move oppression, stimulate lan-^ 
guor, and* rouze their energies, 
ardent spirits are often made use 
of, and, producing temporary re- 
lief, are considered by many as 
sovereign remedies. 

But I have felt by experience 
that their use long persevered in 
diminishes tone and producing 
relaxation, ultimately provokes 
- a return of the maladies they 
were designed to relieve. 

In every instance I recom- 
mend, the moment that certain 
unmanning something I cannot 
describe comes on, which al- 
ways accompanies affections of 
the stomach, instantly drop the 
pen, and quit the book-room, 
mount Rozinante, or a thick 
f f pair 



3lf~ 



SURVEYORS OF ROADS, 



pair of travelling shoes, and with- 
out delay, or suffering wind and 
weather to interfere-) invigorate 
the frame by air and exercise 
out of doors. 

If custom or necessity seem 
to make it necessary to take 
something, instead of spirits, let 
the cordial be solid nutriment, 
well armed with spice, and as 
a principal ingredient, I recom- 
mend ginger, or that more pre- 
ferable English spice, mustard. 

I have felt more comfort and 
relief from a Welsh rabbit, smo- 
thered with mustard, pepper and 
salt, and succeeded by a ride 
than from all the apothecary or 
liqueur-cast could supply. 

SUBJECTS of CONTRO- 
VERSY.— These have been 
occasionally mentioned in this 
collection; a curious one pre- 
sents itself to the editor, tired 
and dusty with turning over a 
cargo of massy folios. Was 

LUTHEll's WIFE HANDSOME? 

No orthodox Catholic at a cer- 
tain time could possibly allow 
any share of beauty to a woman 
who pleased the gross taste of an 
odious Heretic 

A creat deal was said and writ 
ten on the subject ; I have some- 
where seen a print of the lady, 
who appears to have passed that 
irresistible period with it-males 



which has been described as just, 
between the woman and the child. 
Like several German ladies I 
know, the wife of this reformer 
appears to have been an arm-full 

This important subject gave 
rise to a curious book " De Ca- 
tharina Conjuge Lutheri Disser- 
tation" 4to. Hamburgh, I6Q8. 

Another subject once agitated 
the republic of -letters. liter 
dignior sit, doctor idriusque ju- 
ris, aut ecjues auratus. Which 
was the highest degree of ho- 
nour, a doctor of laws or a 
knffht ? For I apprehend the 
words ecjues auratus at that pe- 
riod did not mean exactly that 
species of title which modern 
latinity has given them. 

The pen, the press, and the 
pulpit were earnestly engaged in 
the question, till the Emperor 
Sigismund by a solemn public 
edict decided in favour of the 
learned doctors; observing that 
in half an hour, he could create 
a hundred knights; but to qua- 
lify a man for taking the degree 
of a doctor of law was the labo- 
rious effort of the best years of a 
student's life. 

SURVEYORS OF ROADS, 
a class of men to whom 
whatever they may themselves 
imagine a highly important trust 



SWADL1N, THOMAS. 



219 



is committed, and accompanied 
with a large share of responsibi- 
lity. 

In and near great cities and 
wealthy commercial towns, vigi- 
lant magistrates, and a well-re- 
gulated police, rouze the subjects 
of my present article to a sense 
of their duty ; but in two parts 
of this kingdom, not here to be 
named, their negligence is in the 
highest degree culpable, and often 
fatal. 

The editor of this compilation 
was a melancholy eye-witness of 
the father of a family thrown 
irom his horse, and carried riome 
lifeless to a pregnant wife. This 
accident was evidently, and by 
the confession of the parties con- 
cerned, produced by a careless 
and shameful custom of throw- 
ing out loose stones and other 
substances, on the road, at the 
time of preparing manure, which 
it is common in many parts of 
the kingdom to lay up in heaps 
by the way-side; a filthy cus- 
tom ; and in narrow lanes, where 
carriages meet, or what is worse, 
where women on horseback meet 
carts and waggons, highly dan- 
gerous and troublesome. This, 
and a train of other evils, might 
be prevented by land proprietors 
when they grant new leases, could 
they but persuade themselves oc- 
casionally to see their own es- 
tates and speak to their tenants. 



Many places, equally convex 
nient for dunghills, might be 
found without rendering our 
paths unsafe and offensive; te- 
nants should be bound by speci* 
fie covenants, not to do it on pain 
of forfeiting their lease; and if, 
at any future jime, an amend- 
ment should be thought neces* 
sary in our highway laws, * 
clause might be introduced, sub* 
jecting farmers who offended, in 
this respect, to a payment of ten 
pounds; the labourer actually 
employed, though ordered by his* 
master, should be whipped at the 
cart's tail ; the whip should also 
be exercised, subject to the dis- 
cretion of a magistrate, on the 
backs of those drivers who ride 
in their carts and waggons with- 
out a rein. The present law, in 
this respect, being ineffectual* 
I have reason to think that those 
who laugh at a pecuniary fine, 
which is generally mitigated, 
would dread the smart and shame 
of a public whipping;. 

It is neither reasonable- nor 
right that our lives and limb* 
should be every day endangered 
by drunkenness and indolence, 
or to save a farmer and his horses 
half a dozen days labour in a 



QWADLIN, THOMAS, a 

^ native of Worcestershire, 
and a student of St. John's Col- 
pf 2 lege, 



220 



TAVERNER, RICHARD. 



lege, Oxford, who being a warm 
partizan and violent writer in fa- 
vour of the royalists, was impri- 
soned, and underwent great dif- 
ficulties during the usurpation. 

Having been eminently ser- 
viceable as a contriver and decy- 
pherer of secret confidential let- 
ters to Oueen Henrietta, after 
the restoration of King Charles 
the Second he was presented by 
Dr. Juxon, Archbishop of Can- 
terbury, to the vicarage of St. 
James, in Dover, and the neigh- 
bouring rectory of Houghham ; 
but finding the income of both 
not adequate to his support, for, 
united, they scarcely produced 
him fourscore pounds a year, he 
became melancholy and dejected 
' with so poor a return for his past 
services, but afterwards recovered 
his health and spirits, on being 
further rewarded with preferment 
at Stamford, in Lincolnshire. 

Swadlin was a ready vvrjter ; 
and while his associates were 
opposing the parliamentary forces 
with sword and gun, he di- 
rected against them his artillery 
from the press, as a diurnal 
writer. 

He also engaged warmly in the 
popish controversy, and was 
thought to have completely over- 
set the reasoning and arguments 
of Cardinal Bellamire; his other 
writings were either political or 
on practical divinity. He was, 



as may be naturally expected, a 
zealous supporter of the rites of 
the Church of England, and 
wrote in a manner somewhat ec- 
centric on the marriage ceremo- 
ny. To his volume of Anniver- 
sary Sermons, the texts of many 
of which arewhimsically selected, 
the following Dedication is pre- 
fixed ; 
" To the King's Most Excellent 

Majesty, Charles the Second. 
" Great Sir, 

" That Your Majesty may 
vouchsafe to give these Anniver- 
saries a gracious reception ; that 
you may be blest with a long 
life, a quiet reign, faithful coun- 
sellors, a pious clergy, valiant 
soldiers, and a loyal people ; that 
you may be preserved from pres- 
byterians and independents, is 
the petition of Your Majesty's 
faithful subject, 

" Thomas Swadlin." 

He died in 1 669, desiring the 
following words to be placed over 
his grave : — Hie vixit temporibus 
quibus Carolum primum Britan- 
nice regem farino morte trucida- 
runt rebelles. Of the word fa- 
rino I do not clearly see the 
meaning. 

TAVERNER, RICHARD, 
a native of Brisley, in Nor- 
folk, in the beginning of the 
sixteenth century ; first a student 
of Strond-Inn, which stood on 
the 



TAVERNER, RICHARD. 



221 



the ground now occupied by 
Somerset House, and afterwards 
of the Inner Temple. 

His learning and diligence re- 
commended him to the notice 
and patronage of Thomas Crom- 
well, then a court-favourite, and 
Principal Secretary of State to 
King Henry the Eighth ; by the 
interest of his patron, Taverner 
was appointed one of the clerks 
of the Signet. 

From this place he was dis- 
missed at the accession of Queen 
Mary, in consequence of his 
avowed propensities to the doc- 
trines of Luther ; and during the 
greater part of that bloody reign, 
he lived retired at his seat called 
Norbiton Hall, in the county of 
Surry. 

When Queen Elizabeth as- 
cended the throne, Taverner has- 
tened to court, where he was 
graciously received, and ad- 
dressed Her Majesty in a long 
Latin speech, occasionally orna- 
mented with Greek. 

It ought to have been previ- 
ously observed, that, in 1552, 
the subject of our present article, 
though a layman, had obtained 
from King Edward the Sixth a 
special licence, written and sub- 
scribed by the Monarch himself, 
by which he was authorized to 
preach in any part of His Majesty 's 
dominions. The cause for grant- 
ing so uncommon a privilege 



beingat the same time mentioned, 
" because of the lamentable scar- 
city and laxity of ministers in 
preaching God's unadulterated 
word," a great number of the 
clergy still adhering to the errors 
of the church wf Rome; so that 
many of the royal chaplains were 
sent to ride circuit, for the pur- 
pose of diffusing the necessary 
information in different parts of 
the kingdom. 

When Taverner preached at 
court, he appeared with a round 
black velvet cap on his head, a 
damask gown, and his neck or- 
namented with a golden chain. 

But I return to the auspicious 
reign of Queen Elizabeth, who 
employed him in many confi- 
dential offices; he was elected a 
member of parliament, and is 
accused by the controversial 
writers, at that period, of shar- 
ing largely in the general plunder 
and demolition of religious houses 
in Oxfordshire, of which county 
he was High Sheriff in 1569. 

It was remarked, as a notable 
singularity, that while he exer- 
cised this civil office, he preached 
at St. Mary's church with a sword 
by his side, and his customary de- 
coration of a gold chain suspend- 
ed on his shoulders; the reluct- 
ance with which the clergy in 
general preached against popery, 
the necessity of enlightening the 
public mind, and Taverner, be- , 
sides, 



TAVERNER, RICHARD. 



sides, possessing a considerable 
portion of protestant zeal, being 
a Master of Arts, were probably 
considered as sufficient reasons 
for justifying the novelty of a man 
thus ascending a pulpit, with 
the appendages of a layman, and 
without epi-'jopal ordination. 

In his conduct and conversa- 
tion, Taverner somewhat resem- 
bled the modern Methodists; he 
walked the streets, followed by 
crowds of old and young, whom 
as place, opportunity, or incli- 
nation served, he would turn 
round and harangue, " in apt 
phrase, but with somewhat of a 
certain quaintness in conceit." 

The children he would at times 
examine and catechize on Christ- 
ian doctrines and scriptural his- 
tory, then not generally known, 
more particularly on points in 
which the disputed matters be- 
tween the two churches, and the 
corruptions of Rome, were in- 
volved ; to those who answered 
pertinently, and appeared to have 
received benefit from his former 
instructions, he distributed little 
gifts of money, fruit, wearing 
apparel, and little books con- 
taining extracts from the scrip- 
lures, with explanatory com- 
ments. 

These publications, in times 
when the treasures of everlasting 
life were locked up from common 
eves, in an unknown tongue, 



excited the vengeance of his ene- 
mies, and both printer and au- 
thor were committed to prison. 
" from whence he was speedily 
rescued from the malice of those 
Romanists, by H is Majesty's more 
especial favour." 

The following part of a ser- 
mon, preached at St. Mary's, 
before the University, by Ta- 
verner, is peculiar; and if the 
editor is not very much mistaken, 
he has heard it repeated, almost 
word for word, by some modern 
pupil of Whitfield, Wesley, or 
Hill: — 

" I am, at length, after a te- 
dious and perilous journey, ar- 
rived at St. Mary's Mount, and 
have secured a place in the rocky 
stage where I now stand ; but I 
did not forget to lay in a stock 
of comfortable good things for 
you and myself. 

" I have brought you some 
fine biscuits, baked in the oven 
of charity ; they were carefully 
preserved for the chickens of the 
church, the sparrows of the 
Spirit, and the sweet swallows 
of salvation." 

Such was the language, so un- 
befitting the place and occasion, 
of a gentleman of property and 
family, hisrh in office, and warm- 
ly and loudly praised by the 
learned congregation. 

The rocky stage of which the 

preacher spoke was the pulpit of 

St, 



TERMAGANT WIFE. 



223 



St. Mary's, which was then 
wholly of stone, curiously carv- 
ed, and placed against a pillar on 
the south side of the body of the 
-church. 

This venerable piece of anti- 
quity was- thought prejudicial to 
the health, or uncomfortable to 
the feelings of those who used 
it, an effect not improbable, but 
easily remedied by an internal 
casing of wood. 

Its removal produced long dis- 
cussion and considerable alterca- 
tion : the antiquaries of the old 
school exclaimed against its de- 
struction as a sacrilegious viola- 
tion of architectural unison and 
good taste; but the pulpit de- 
molishes, feeling that they had 
a majority on their side, it was 
ultimately taken down in 165-1, 
by order of Dr. John Owen, at 
that time Vice Chancellor, and 
its place supplied by one of wood, 
set on the same pedestal. 

npERMAGANT WIFE, one 

•*■ of the advantages of, ex- 
emplified in the case of Palseolo- 
gus, the second of that name, 
Emperor of Constantinople. 

This monarch having long la- 
boured under a painful disease, 
for which his physicians had 
prescribed various remedies in 
vain, his family and the court 
were waiting the issue with anx- 
iety, when a female, somewhat 



advanced in years', demanded a 
private audience of the Empress, 
and informed Her Majesty, in a 
few words, that she was too 
gentle in her treatment and mode 
of behaviour towards her hus- 
band ; that nothing was so likely 
to restore him to health as a little 
matrimonial discipline, duly and 
regularly administered \ in short, 
that if Her Majesty wished to 
preserve so valuable life, it must 
be her business to vex and irri- 
tate the Emperor by every means 
in fcer power. 

The imperial matron replied, 
that she was very far from being 
deficient in so essential and in- 
dispensible a part, of nuptial duty, 
but, like a good wife, she frankly 
confessed that, in administering 
this domestic medicine, she had 
somewhat relaxed her discipline 
since her husband's illness, lest 
it might exasperate his complaint. 
Of this the privy counsellor as- 
sured her there was no danger. 
Her Majesty followed the advice 
of this kind neighbour, and dis- 
pensed with liberality this re- 
medy, which, from the earliest 
ages of the world, has been so 
generally used. 

Whether, on all occasions, it 
has been attended with such ma- 
nifest and immediate advantage, 
is not certain ; but, in the case 
before us, the irritation produced 
by the well-meant efforts of the 
Empress, 



224 



THINKING ALIKE. 



Empress, brought on a copious 
perspiration, which, producing 
a salutary crisis, completely re- 
stored the royal patient, and he 
lived to a good old age. 

If the narrative here given may 
be relied on, and it is told by a 
contemporary historian, it will 
help to reconcile us to, and ex- 
plain an apparently contradictory 
paradox, which certain reasoners 
sometimes sporty that a husband 
may be killed with kindness,and 
a wife break her heart from want 
of contradiction. 

THINKING ALIKE. In- 
stances sometimes occur 
where this coincidence of idea 
presents itself without a possibi- 
lity of the author's having read, 
or heard of the thoughts of his 
predecessor. 

The following resemblance be- 
tween the lines of a late writer, 
and the Lady's Looking-glass, 
written by Matthew Prior, can- 
not be considered as coming un- 
der this description. 

I shall first recite the more 
recent performance, because the 
lines are confessedly well written, 
and, in my opinion, would have 
been faultless, but for their want, 
their unacknowledged want, of 
originality. 

When clouds that angel face de- 
form, 
Anxious I view the rising storm; 



When lightnings flash from that 

dark eye, 
And tell the gath'ring tempest 

nigh; 
I curse the sex, and bid adieu 
To female friendship, love, and 

you. 
But when soft passions rule that 

breast, 
And gentle tones, to me addrest ; 
When cloudless smiles around 

you play, 
'Tis then with me love's holiday ; 
I bless the hour when first I 

knew 
Dear female friendship, love, and 

you. 

The words of Prior. 
Celia and I, the other day, 
Walk'd o'er the sand-hills to the 

sea: 
The setting sun adorn'd the 

coast ; 
His beams oblique, his fierceness 

lost. 
In Celia, like the pleasant scene, 
All was enchanting, soft, serene. 
Rapid the change ; the wind 

grew high, ' ' 
And heavy clouds obscur'd the 

sky. 
The lightnings flash, the thun- 
ders roar, 
And waves tremendous lash the 

shore. 
Struck with the horror of the 

sight, 
Poor frighten'd Celia takes her 

flight. 

J " Look 



THINKING ALIKE. 



22* 



" Look back, my fair one, look/' 

said I, 
" Thyself in this wild scene 

descry ; 
When thou art in good humour 

drest, 
And gentle reason rules thy 

breast, 
The sun upon the calmest sea 
Appears not half so bright as 

thee. 
But when vain doubt and ground- 
less fear, 
Do that dear foolish bosom tear; 
When pouting lips, and wat'ry 

eye, 
Tell me the rising storm is nigh, 
'Tis then thou art yon angry 

main, 
Deform'd by winds and dash'd 

by rain ; 
And the poor sailor that must try 
Its fury, labours less than I. 
Shipwreck'd, in vain to land I 

make, 
While fate and love both drive 

me back : 
Wretched when from thee, 

vex'd when nigh, 
i with thee or without thee 

DIE." 

I cannot quit this elegant trifle 
without remarking the contradic- 
tory praise, and, in my opinion, 
the unfounded censure, of a late 
respectable critic, pronounced 
on the poetry of Prior. 

After acknowledging his lan- 
guage to be familiar, smooth, 

VOL. IV, 



easy, sprightly, and apparently 
without care, he condemns his 
effusions of gallantry as wholly 
void of tenderness, nature, and 
passion ; as exhibiting the cold- 
ness of Cowley without his wit ; 
the dulness of a versifier, re- 
solved, at all events, to write 
something, and striving to be 
amorous by dint of study. 

Henry and Emma, so gene- 
rally read, and, with a few ex- 
ceptions, so universally admired, 
the same writer condemns as 
dull and tedious, and the compo- 
sition of one who does not talk 
like a man of this world. 

Did the learned writer consi- 
der Emma's being fond of a bad 
man, as a proof of Prior's ig- 
norance of the world ? Is such an 
incident, or is it not supported 
by every day's experience, in si- 
milar ' cases ? Besides, Henry 
might have been a fugitive, driven 
from his home by political perse- 
cution, without exhibiting any 
actual depravity of morals, or de- 
viating from individual integrity. 

" Whenever Prior succeeds, 
it is by effort, struggle, and toil ; 
his phrases, though generally ori- 
ginal,, are sometimes harsh : he 
has neither elegance nor ease." 

The little composition I have 
copied, written by this compa- 
nion of Swift, this friend of Bo- 
lingbroke and Harley, is confes- 
sedly an amorous effusion, and 
a g ought 



9.1$ 



TOBACCO. 



ought to have been excepted 
from the heavy censure of our 
acute, and, in general, justly- 
deciding critic. I appeal to my 
readers, whether it is not, in every 
respect, the reverse of Dr. John- 
son's description. 

I conclude with a word on 
< ( the wisdom of Prior as a states-* 
man." If by wisdom our great 
moralist meant, in this instance, 
a prompt and submissive obe- 
dience to those who employed 
him, Prior indeed was wise. 

But as an ambassador, highly 
and confidentially employed in 
making peace with France, when 
her power might and ought to 
have been eternally and irreco- 
verably crushed, I consider Prior 
either short-sighted as a politic 
cian, or agreeing to measures de- 
rogatory to the glory and interest 
of his country, from a fear of 
being dismissed from a lucrative 
post.; in either case,' Dr. John- 
son's praise is misapplied. 

When made acquainted with 
the articles of the treaty, he af- 
terwards negociated. Had he told 
the Lord Treasurer, that the bu- 
siness he employed him in was 
neither creditable to himsejf nor 
honourable to his country, dis- 
mission would, in all probability, 
have followed ; yet, although de- 
prived of dignity and emolument, 
Prior might have retired to his 
college fellowship with a reputa- 



tion which no diplomatic envoy 
ever enjoyed, and for which he 
might have been envied by kings. 

TOBACCO, an Indian plant, 
called by the original na- 
tives of the American continent 
petun, and used by them, pre- 
viously to its introduction into 
Europe, as a procurer of sleep, 
of intoxication, and of a species 
of madness, by which they were 
enabled, as they imagined, to 
foretell future events, and to de- 
cide on the good or ill success of 
a battle before they attacked their 
enemies. At so early a period 
had that strange compound, 
man, resolved to deprive him- 
self of reason, God's best gift, 
before he undertook the most 
awful and important actions. 

These good, bad, or imaginary 
effects, were produced by burn- 
ing the leaves, over which the 
person, who wished for superna- 
tural intelligence, holding his 
head, inhaled the ascending 
smoke. 

The dexterous tobacconist of 
civilized Europe, catching the 
idea, and improving on it, dries 
the leaves by a scientific and ela- 
borate process, which provides 
employment for thousands 5 it is 
then placed in a pipe, set on 
fire, and the vapour conveyed, 
through a well-manufactured 
tube, to the operator's mouth, 
from 



TOBACCO. 



297 



from which he discharges vo- 
lumes of smoke. 

Concerning this singular, and 
to the man who first practised and 
first beheld it, this perilous and 
surprising operation, an anecdote 
is related of a domestic of Sir 
Walter Raleigh's, which I shall 
presently relate. 

The smoker, in the mean 
time, engaged in a placid, se- 
dentary, and with proper accom- 
paniments and fit posture, a 
somewhat dignified magisterial 
occupation, forgets his cares, 
lulls his mind into a calm obli- 
vion of all his cares, and com- 
municates a new relish to the li- 
quor he drinks. Not satisfied 
with this transitory enjoyment of 
a favourite vegetable, others make 
it the permanent and unsavoury 
companion of their palate, which 
he who first essayed must have 
possessed the firmness of a stoic, 
and the stomach of an ostrich or 
a horse. 

A third class of these multi- 
pliers of pleasure, more refined, 
and fancying themselves more 
cleanly, replenish the most pro- 
minent part of their face with 
pinches of this peculiar plant, 
after it has undergone another 
long and tedious process, and 
been reduced to an impalpable 
powder. To these, and other 
useful and medical purposes, do 
we apply this plant, so wonder- 



ful in every point of view, whe- 
ther considered as an instrument 
of commerce, a colonial produce 
or a productive source of national 
revenue, of general and indivi- 
dual labour. Under the title 
snufT, in one of my former vo- 
lumes, part of the laughable 
mock-heroic poem of a modern 
writer has been given, cloathed, 
as indeed it required, in its ori- 
ginal Latin. 

In the article Sheridan, part 
of that ingenious senator's speech, 
in one of the numerous debates 
on Mr. Pitt's tobacco bill, is in- 
troduced : it set the house in a 
roar of uncontrolable laughter ; 
but in spite of wit, humour, and 
misrepresentation, the act passed, 
and made an addition of one hun- 
dred thousand pounds a year to 
the public revenue, which, in 
this branch of it, had been gross- 
ly and notoriously injured. 

Previously to this salutary en- 
actment, so violently opposed, and 
against which the editor, like a 
blockhead, and misled by misre- 
presentation, joined in full cry, 
the excise laws had been perpe- 
tually evaded, and the King's 
officers, almost in every instance, 
imposed on or defied. 

Much has been said and writ- 
ten against tobacco, on the score 
of uncleanlyness, and its perni- 
cious effects on the teeth, the 
stomach, complexion, and gene- 
G g e ral 



223 



TOBACCO. 



ral health; that, as a producer 
of thirst, it encourages a habit of 
drinking in the lower classes of 
society, particularly unfortunate, 
and generally leading to idleness, 
vice, and rags. 

The use of it has also been 
called unnatural, because the va- 
rious arts of smoking, chewing, 
and snuff-taking, are always at- 
tended with considerable pain 
and difficulty at their first com- 
mencement, and, by some, can 
never be attained. 

The following exaggerated pic- 
ture of a smoker and chewer has 
been given by a modern writer. 

* c His tongue is foul, his 
breath pestilently offensive, his 
smell and taste gone for ever; 
his face is carbuncled, his habit 
cachectic, his liver dry, and ap- 
petite decayed \ the women loath 
him ; for his mouth like an ill- 
tapped ale barrel is perpetually 
dribbling ; so that she whom he 
kisses must taste him." 

King James the First is said 
to have been violently prejudiced 
and to have written against what 
he called a filthy Indian weed; 
and Stowe imitating the court 
language, terms it i( a stinking 
production, used to God's dis- 
honour; concerning which, at 
its first introducement, all men 
wondered what it meant. " But 
if we may believe a modern poet, 
his majesty altered his opinion, 



at the suggestion of one of his 
secretaries of state. 
Cecil did plainly make appear 
It brought ten thousand pounds 

a year. 

This assertion of the man of 
verse I doubt at so early a period 
after its introduction into Eng- 
land, which was only a few years 
before, by the seamen of Sir 
Francis Drake. 

But the general use of tobacco 
in this kingdom was established 
by Sir Walter Rajeigh ; who has 
been called the king of smokers. 
On this subject, the following 
anecdote of a domestic of that 
meritorious but unfortunate 
knight has been fabricated. 

Before smoking became gene- 
ral, Sir Walter occasionally en- 
joyed a pipe in his closet; but 
on a certain occasion, having 
ordered a servant to bring a jug 
of ale, he inadvertently forgot to 
lay the pipe aside, when the 
serving-man entered, who ter- 
rified at seeing smoke issue as 
he thought from the mouth, 
nose, and eyes of his master, in 
the agitation of terror, and scarce- 
ly knowing what he did, threw 
the liquor in his face, and ran 
furiously down stairs, crying fire 
as he went, and observing to his 
fellow servants, " Sir Walter 
has studied till his brains are on 
fire ; for I saw the smoke coming 
out of his nose and mouth/' 

The 



TOBACCO. 



229 



The French deduce their first 
possession of this commodity to 
Monsieur Nicot ; from whom 
its Latin name nicotrana is de- 
rived ; they further add, that he 
was a merchant of the island of 
Tobago, where this large rank 
plant thrives luxuriantly : and 
thus they account for its English 
name. 

The following prohibitory in- 
junction occurs in the will of 
Peter Campbell, a gentleman of 
Derbyshire, dated October the 
20th, 1616. 

" Now for all such of my 
household goods, at Darley, 
whereof an inventory must be 
taken, by my executor, my will 
is, that my son Roger shall have 
them, on this express condition, 
that if at any time hereafter he 
shall be found taking of tobacco, 
sufficient proof thereof being 
made to the satisfaction of my 
executor, Roger shall forfeit the 
said goods, and they shall on 
such forfeiture become the pro- 
perty of and be equally divided 
between his brothers and sis- 
ters." 

But in spite of the opposition 
of prejudice, the ties of interest, 
the calls of health, and its incon- 
sistency with decorous manners 
and a correct taste, the use of 
this extraordinary Indian vege- 
table is general in all ages, ranks 
and sexes, not only on the con- 



tinent and in the islands of Eu- 
rope, but in Turkey, Russia, Si- 
beria, Tartary, China, Japan, 
Hindostan, Persia, Africa and 
America. The Chinese, appa- 
rently determined in every in- 
stance to perplex or set at de- 
fiance European chronology, that 
singular people insist that the 
smoking and chewing of tobacco 
has been common in that vast 
empire for more than six hund- 
red years. 

But although its general and 
indiscriminate use has been con- 
demned by medical men, parti- 
cularly in thin, hectic, irritable 
and feverish habits, " consider- 
able advantage is said to have 
been derived from it in corpu- 
lent, phlegmatic, gross habits, 
in persons of pendulous forms, 
great eaters and foul feeders, and 
in asthmatic affections originat- 
ing from infarctions of the lungs; 
in nervous pains of the head, 
and in certain tooth-aches, where 
the miserable patient has had half 
his teeth drawn, without ef- 
fect, snuff-taking has produced 
wonderful relief." 

With respect to the last men- 
tioned custom, persons who have 
long adopted it will do well to 
be cautious in desisting from its 
use abruptly, as some have im- 
prudently done, and have by this 
means produced irrecoverable 
blindness* 

Few 



230 



TRAVELLING IN A PARLOUR, 



Few themes have inspired 
poets more than the subject of 
our present article. The follow- 
ing lines appear to be written by 
a warm admirer. 

A smoker s address to his pipe. 
Tube I love thee as my life ; 
By thee I mean to choose a wife. 
Thy spotless colour let me find 
In her skin, her thoughts and 

mind. 
Let her have a shape as fine 
And a breath as sweet as thine. 
May she when her lips I kiss 
Burn like thee with mutual 

bliss. 
When to study I incline, 
Let her aid be such as thine ; 
Such as thine her pleasing pow'rs, 
To soothe my anxious waking 

hours. * 
Let her live to give delight ; 
Ever warm and ever bright. 
May her deeds whene'er she dies 
Mount like incense to the skies. 

By another author, on the same 
subject. 

Pleasing amusement, calm de- 
light, 

With thee, companion of the 
night, 

Life gently steals away ; 

Thou soother of my pensive 
hours, 

Whilst time's remorseless tooth 
devours 

This mould'ring mortal clay. 



Thou steady friend of social 

cheer, 
To me thou ever shalt be dear, 
Luxurious regale ! 
How pleasantly the minutes pass 
When with my bottle, friend 

and glass, 
Clean pipes and Taunton ale. 

O how enchanting to the soul 

Are the gay fumes that crown 
the bowl, 

And stimulate to fun, 

While laughter, song and harm- 
less joke 

Sport in the clouds of mingled 
smoke, 

With repartee and pun. 

TRAVELLING IN A PAR- 
LOUR. 

The preface of a modern tour- 
ist begins with the following 
words : — 

" A love of action is one of 
the most powerful principles in 
the human breast, and operates 
more or less upon us all. Those 
who by old age or disease are 
prevented from gratifying it in 
its full extent still delight in hear- 
ing related the dangers and ex- 
ploits of others. 

" The laziest of mortals and 
most idle of men must not be 
without his pastime, he regularly 
calls for and expects some real 
or artificial object to excite fri- 
volous exertion, and employ se- 
dentary 



TREES. 



231 



clentary activity : without such 
resources, leisure would be pain- 
ful, and idleness fatiguing. 

" We thus fluctuate between 
a desire for motion and a love of 
rest ; and although curiosity 
prompts us to visit unknown 
• countries, laziness deters us from 
undertaking long voyages. In 
such a state of the mind, books 
of travels enable us to take a 
middle course, at once to gratify 
our love of novelty and indulge 
our indolence. With such helps, 
we may be said to travel in our 
parlours, and to ride post in an 
easy chair." 

TREES, an important part of 
the property of country 
gentlemen, to which a conside- 
rable degree of attention has for 
many years been paid, but not 
more than it deserves ; for after a 
man has been stripped by assessors 
and attornies, by Oxford trades- 
men, men-milliners and mort- 
gagees, how often have the 
wounds of a lacerated rent roll 
been repaired by a salutary draft 
from the timber-merchant. 

But the design of my present 
article is to call the attention of 
land proprietors more imme- 
diately to avenues, plantations, 
ind clumps. 

When the trees of which they 
are formed have arrived at ma- 
turity, thev should without de- 



lay be cut down and replaced : 
thus would hope and expectation, 
so essential to human happiness, 
be kept alive, and independently 
of a handsome sum of money 
produced, the business by afford- 
ing salutary occupation to the 
owner, would prevent many a 
ruinous expedition to Newmar- 
ket, the gaming-house, Bath, 
or St. James's-street. 

How often has the editor of 
this article passed by thousands 
of noble trees, fit for carrying 
our floating thunders against the 
faithless Gaul, but for the sake 
of breaking an hard outline or 
compleating a picturesque view, 
mouldering in decay, while the 
owner forgetful of the treasure 
he possesed, and pressed for mo- 
ney, was in the hands of money- 
lenders and marauders. Trees 
which have furnished their dif- 
ferent masters with shade and 
shelter for two hundred years 
have performed that part of their 
duty, and as they can at any 
time put ten thousand pounds 
into the pocket of their present 
owner, it is as great a sin to suf- 
fer them to decay unused as it 
would be to cut an oak plant. 

If they could speak, I am con- 
vinced their words would be to 
the following effect : iC Sir, we 
have stood still long enough, 
and as every body else seems in 
motion, permit us to alter our 
position. 



S32 



UNPROPITIOUS SLcJECTS. 



position. While all the world 
is in arms, let us as true natives 
of the English soil repair without 
delay to the dock-yards of our 
gracious Sovereign, and after due 
preparation, we will plunge at 
the word of command into the 
ocean, and teach these French 
bravoes better manners." 

A well known and well au- 
thenticated anecdote is related of 
a gentleman with several mar- 
riageable daughters, and who 
though possessing a good estate, 
was at a loss for ready money to 
give them portions. 

Having consulted a neigh- 
bouring attorney, a few days af- 
ter, he called, and they walked 
into the park, to discuss certain 
difficulties, which stood in their 
way, on the subject of raising 
money. During the conversa- 
tion, they paused under one of 
the venerable oaks which sur- 
rounded the place. 

It is not easy to pass by a fine 
woman or a handsome tree with- 
out feeling and sometimes ex- 
pressing our admiration. " A 
noble oak" involuntarily escaped 
the lawyer's lips. " Yes," re- 
plied his client, " and they tell 
me I have a thousand such in 
different parts of my grounds." 
A sudden thought presented it- 
self that they might be applied 
to the purpose of producing 
money* 



" Do you know what a tree 
like this is worth," said the 
solicitor. " I cannot even 
guess" was the reply. 

Knowing something of the 
mensuration oi solids, he bor* 
rowed the gentleman's handker- 
chief, which he tied corner-wise 
to his own, took the circumfe- 
rence of the oak, and guessing 
the height, said " I undervalue 
it at twenty-five pounds." 

To shorten my story, the pro- 
prietor of the mansion valued his 
trees, hut loved his daughters 
better. The saw and the axe 
went to work. Thirty thousand 
pounds were soon realized. The 
young ladies had husbands of 
their own choosing; and the 
gentleman afterwards confessed, 
that in cutting down, thinning, 
planting, arranging, and getting 
his daughters married was the 
occupation of some of the plea- 
santest years of his life. To add 
to his satisfaction, a celebrated 
layer-out of ground declared that 
so far from doing an injury, his 
place was considerably im- 
proved. 

UNPROPITIOUS SUB- 
JECTS for a ithors. 
My readers need not now be 
told that an ode is extant written 
in praise of the massacre of St. 
Bartholomew, and that a cool de- 
fence of it was published by the 
abbe 



UNQUALIFIED PRAISE. 



233 



abbe Caveyrac. The humanity of 
the Spaniards in South America 
has also been insisted on by the 
abbeNuix. 12mo. Venice, 1781.' 

*At the moment I write; a gen- 
tleman is living who has elabo- 
rately defended the conduct of 
Cain, and apologized for the 
treachery -of Judas Iscariot. 

Only a few years have passed 
since a serious and pompous 
biographical panegyric was com- 
posed, soon after the death of 
the subject of it, who during the" 
whole of his life set at defiance 
the laws of God and man. 

This is attempting a man's 
life with a vengeance ; and if not 
at the instigation of the Devil, 
at the call of some malignant 
daemon not less inimical to the 
peace and purity of mankind. 

UNQUALIFIED PRAISE. 
A good wife and an ex- 
cellent mother, wbo sometimes 
reads this collection, and who 
expects in men the same correct 
conjugal fidelity which is so emi- 
nently exemplified in her own life, 
this worthy woman accuses the 
editor of having bestowed on Pe- 
ter the Great, Czar of Moscovy 
and Emperor of Russia a large 
and unqualified portion of pane- 
gyric, in different parts of the 
present work, although he is re- 
corded in history as a gross vio- 
lator of his duty, both as a hus- 

VOL, IV. 



band and as a father, in his harsh 
and unjustifiable treatment of 
his first wife, the Empress Eu- 
doxia Fcederowna, and her chil- 
dren. 

For this and other reasons, I 
give a short article to this un- 
fortunate and imprudent Prin- 
cess; previously observing that 
when I called Peter " the Great" 
in a former volume, I added the 
following words, " in spite of all 
his faults"" for it cannot be 
denied, however culpable his pri- 
vate life, that he was the father 
of his country, and the founder 
of the glory of the Russian em- 
pire. 

Soon 1 after ascending the 
throne, he resolved to marry, 
and ordered it to be publicly 
proclaimed through his extensive 
dominions that he would share 
his bed and crown with the most 
beautiful, deserving, and ac- 
complished woman in his empire. 

A day was fixed, the 19th of 
June, 1689? when such as chose 
to be candidates at this singular 
election, were to assemble in a 
large saloon of the palace at 
Moscow. 

On this occasion, more than 
three hundred ladies were col- 
lected, when Eudoxia Fcede- 
rowna, the daughter of a private 
gentleman of Novogorod, and in 
the nineteenth year of her age, 
won the imperial prize. 
h h On 



,234 



UNQUALIFIED PRAISE. 



On being informed of her good 
fortune, the future Empress ex- 
pressed her gratitude to the Czar 
for his condescension, and her 
surprize at his preference, when 
so many ladies in every respect 
her superiors filled the palace. 

Such humility and good sense 
was equalled only by her beauty; 
but all was not sufficient to re- 
tain the affection and regulate 
the inordinate appetites of the 
youthful Monarch. 

The marriage of Eudoxia was 
celebrated with considerable mag- 
nificence; but in less than three 
years, Peter was violently smit- 
ten with the charms of Ann 
Moensen, a woman of loose 
manners, and the daughter of a 
citizen of Moscow, whose fa- 
vours he easily procured. The 
moment this illicit attachment 
was discovered by Eudoxia, her 
jealousy and indignation got the 
better of her good sense, and 
procuring information of the 
place of meeting, she flew in the 
rage of neglected beauty to a 
house in the suburbs, which her 
husband had provided for his 
mistress. Having surprised the 
guilty pair, the Empress attacked 
Peter in gross language, reproach- 
ed him bitterly for his hypocrisy 
and broken vows, as well as his 
bad taste, pointing at the same 
time in a sarcastic way at the 
object of his present passion; 



who though very young, was 
full formed, rather coarse, and 
masculine in her person and 
manners, but possessed two qua- 
lities in women so frequently 
irresistible, youth and novelty. 

The affections of Peter, which' 
by gentle arts might have been 
regained, were estranged by such 
violence ; it was in vain that he 
endeavoured to arrest the torrent 
of abuse and virulence poured 
forth on this trying occasion by 
Eudoxia, whom he could scarcely 
prevent from offering personal 
indignity to her rival. 

Seizing the Empress some- 
what rudely and roughly in his 
arms, he dragged her out of the 
room ; for the angry passions in 
his own breast when rouzed were 
ungovernably ferocious* He then 
called loudly for his favourite 
Lefort, and ordered him to con- 
duct the mad woman, for so he 
called her, with a party of sol- 
diers to Saltusky. 

This was a solitary monas- 
tery, in a desolate situation, at a 
considerable distance from Mos- 
cow, where being obliged to take 
the veil as a member of a reli- 
gious society, but being in fact 
a close prisoner, she passed the 
remainder of her melancholy 
life. 

The cruelty of Peter, who ne- 
ver forgave his wife, was ex- 
tended to her descendants ; for 
the 



UNQUALIFIED PRAISE. 



235 



the unfortunate Empress had 
borne him two sons. 

Thus Eudoxia, whose birth, 
beauty and talents procured and 
qualified her for a throne, was 
without legal process degraded, 
expelled from her family and im- 
prisoned for life; while^ in less 
than two years, for the triumph 
of Ann Moensen was of short 
duration, in less than two years, 
Peter was fascinated by , the 
daughter of a Sclavonian peasant, 
educated by charity, the wife and 
it is said the virgin widow of a 
Swedish serjeant, a prisoner and 
in fact the slave and property of 
MenzikofF, who had succeeded 
Lefort as the Czar's favourite. 

Having excited desire, by her 
personal attractions,- she became 
his mistress ; but the extraordi- 
nary powers of her mind soon 
laid the foundation of a more 
lasting attachment. 

The fair Sclavonian, whose 
husband had been killed on the 
day of their marriage, at the 
storming of Marienbourg, by the 
Russians, became the wife of 
Peter, secured his affections dur- 
ing the remainder of his life, and 
became Empress, under the name 
of Catharine the First ; a name 
familiar to most readers. 

The conduct of Peter towards 
his first Empress was in the 
highest degree culpable, and can- 
not be defended \ but the beha- 



haviour of his royal consort was 
faulty and injudicious. Eudox- 
ia, who was far from defi- 
cient in good sense, ought to 
have recollected that an incont 

STANT HUSBAND WAS NEVER 
YET RECLAIMED BY REPROACH 
AND VIOLENCE. 

It is I confess a severe and 
humiliating lesson to preach gen- 
tleness and forbearance to those 
who have already been grossly 
and deeply injured ; but no other 
method will succeed : other 
means have been and every day 
ore resorted to, but they only 
exasperate and augm nt the evil. 

On these unfoi\..mate occa- 
sions, wives should endeavour to 
recall wandering affection, as a 
member of the Church of Eng- 
land mentioned in this collection 
advises his brethren to reclaim 
their congregations from Metho- 
/ dists and sectaries ; they should 
try to excel their rival in their 
own arts. Not to be too scru- 
pulously watchful in arraigning 
conjugal indiscretion, and to re- 
double the efforts of kindness, 
attention and obedience, though 
a painful task, is the only pro- 
bable mode of calling back a 
husband worth having. There 
is no medium ; if good temper 
and gentleness of manners are 
once lost, the loves and graces 
instantly fly away. 



Hh 2 



VALENTINE 



236 



VALENTINE GREATRAKES. 



VALENTINE GREAT- 
RAKES, a native of Ire- 
land, in the early part of the 
17th century, and clerk of the 
peace for the county of Cork, 
during the reign of Cromwell. 

Having been dismissed at 
the restoration, he retired to 
a small farm he inherited from 
his father, at ArTane, in the 
county of Waterford | in this 
sequestered spot, which was the 
place of his birth, exchanging an 
active life and animating objects 
for solitude and books, he be- 
came melancholy, and devoted 
himself to the mysteries of reli- 
gious contemplation. 

After six years seclusion from 
the business and the amusements 
of human life, in a moment as 
he said of inspiration, but as his 
enemies asserted of crafty finesse 
and political leger-de-rnain, he 
felt a strong persuasion that he 
possessed the gift of curing many 
obstinate, dangerous and painful 
diseases, without the help of in- 
ternal medicines. 

His first attempts proving suc- 
cessful, gradually established and 
diffused his reputation, the coun- 
try people repaired to his house 
in crowds, and his time and at- 
tention were fully occupied in 
removing their complaints and 
visiting the wealthier classes of 
society, who required his assist- 
ance in different parts of Ireland. 



But his fame was not confined 
to that kingdom. Several emi- 
nent and noble persons earnestly 
requested his presence in Eng- 
land, and on his arrival in Lon- 
don, King Charles the Second 
sent for him several times, to en- 
quire concerning his method of 
cure, had many long conversa- 
tions with him, ana* being pleased 
with his manners , and deport- 
ment, made him an honourable 
present. Greatrakes was also 
patronized by the Honourable 
Robert Boyle, Dr. Whichcote, 
and Dr. Patrick. Cudworth, 
author of the Intellectual System, 
and Mr. Flamstead, the astro- 
nomer, were his patients. 

With these gentlemen he con- 
versed Unreservedly on the sub- 
ject of his gift of healing. No 
medicines as I have before ob- 
served were given internally, or 
externally applied. 

The only means he employed 
were gentle friction with the 
palm of his hand (which is said 
to have been remarkably white 
and soft,) and prayer. 

He succeeded in a great num- 
ber of cases, and differed in one 
respect from the common run of 
irregular medical practitioners ; 
he was diffident, modest and un- 
assuming, and owned without 
scruple that he was himself no 
more able to account for his suc- 
cess than others, but from super- 
natural 



VALENTINE GREATRAKES. 



237 



natural interposition. After 
practising several years with pro- 
fit and repute, he candidly con- 
fessed that his gift was departed. 
We are not now able to deter- 
mine whether independence had 
cooled his zeal. Perhaps some 
circumstance with which we are 
unacquainted or the caprice of 
public opinion had diminished 
the faith of his patients. 

A modern writer has com- 
pared the manual applications of 
Greatrakes to the flourishes of 
animal magnetism ; which a few 
years since excited considerable 
attention at Paris, and afterwards 
in the English metropolis. 

Although much more was 
made and said on this subject 
than was really true, one of the 
principles on which the theory 
depends, nervous susceptibility, 
as producing important effects 
on the animal ceconomy, cannot 
be denied : this also must have 
been powerfully assisted by the 
strong faith, the implicit confi- 
dence and enthusiastic zeal of 
its ardent votaries. 

With such powerful aid have 
not prepared toads, powder of 
post or of human scull, has not 
the touch of a dead man's hand 
hanging from a gallows actually 
wrought wonderful cures ? 

In a case where a desperate 
wound had been inflicted, did 
not Sir Kenelm Digby disbelieve 



the patient's death, when told 
that the weapon had been rubbed 
with his sympathetic powder? 

As to the susceptibility of 
the nervous system, many of 
my readers must recollect in 
the puerile ecstacy of their earlv 
sports, the powerful and often 
the distressing effect of being- 
threatened to be tickled, accom- 
panied by a correspondent mo- 
tion of the hand, often without 
being touched. 

This and much more we are 
willing to allow ; but what must 
be the feelings of a parent and 
where was the integrity of a 
friend who in a putrid fever could 
be prevailed on to delay means 
incontestibly useful, and to send 
for an operator, at eighty miles 
distance, to an only, a much 
loved child, expiring under a 
disease which the unhappy fa- 
ther was convinced, alas, when 
it was too late, might have been 
conquered by the timely exhibi- 
tion of Peruvian hark, and half 
a dozen bottles of port wine ! ! 

Pompous words, mysterious 
motions, wonderful tales, and 
shaded rooms may help to lighten 
the burthensome leisure of lan- 
guid amateurs and feeble valetu- 
dinarians ; but to rely on doubt- 
ful means in cases where a few 
hours delay is irrecoverably fatal, 
and where the instruments for 
restoring health are long estab- 
lished, 



23 B 



VIRGIL. 



Iished, certain and precisely 
pointed out. To hold out a 
broken reed for sinking nature 
to rest against^ when a strong pil- 
lar of support is within our reach 

IS COMMITTING MURDER. 

VIRGIL was not author of 
the JEneis, Horace of the 
Odes ascribed to him ; and to 
descend somewhat in the literary 
scale, Garth did not write his 
own Dispensary. These and 
other singular assertions have at 
various times been seriously 
made and elaborately defended 
by modern critics. 

One of the arguments pro- 
duced for the purpose of depriv- 
ing the Mantuan bard of so im- 
portant apart of his poetic fame, . 
is, that a sufficient space of time 
did not occur between the finish- 
ing the Georgics, evidently first 
written, and Virgil's death. 

This was five years, a space of 
time surely long enough for a 
leisure man properly qualified 
to compose the poem in ques- 
tion . 

The second argument adduced 
is, that in the Georgics, the true 
Virgil supposed the Trojans to 
have been conducted into Italy 
by Tithonus, instead of ^Eneas, 
who is their leader in the fabri- 
cated poem ; thirdly, that in the 
former, the metempsychosis or 
translation of souls, as taught by 



Pythagoras, is rejected, but sup- 
ported in the sixth bootc of the 
iEneis. 

Fourthly, that the critics' great 
literary oracle Pliny is wholly- 
silent on the subject of any epic 
poem written by Virgil, but often 
quotes the Eclogues and Geor- 
gics^ 

This assailer of the authenti- 
city of a composition which has 
descended to us through a long 
vista of more than fifteen hun- 
dred years, and which to a mind 
endued with any portion of clas- 
sical taste bears internal evi- 
dence of the Augustan age, this 
clear-work critic will not allow 
any weight to the joint evidence 
of Ovid, Juvenal, Statiu3, Mar- 
tial and Tacitus ; all of whose 
supposed works he insists are the 
creation of modern artists. 

In a word, he asserts that its 
numerous faults, without any 
other evidence, prove it to be 
wholly unworthy of Virgil. The 
space of time occupied by the 
action of the poem, a whole year, 
is excessive beyond the duration 
of any of the great ancient epics; 
the Iliad and Odyssey occupying 
only forty days; the anachro- 
nism in Dido's story ; the ver- 
sification unequal ; unmeaning 
and often inapplicable epithets ; 
pious ^Eneas for instance de- 
bauching and then basely desert- 
ing the woman who had so hos- 
pitably 



VOTIVE SHIELD. 



£3$ 



pitably sheltered him and his 
companions ; solecisms, Galli- 
cisms and Italicisms without end, 
and absurd comparisons ; such 
are the charges alledged against 
Virgil, by a writer whose literary 
acrimony was sharpened and 
made the collateral instrument 
of religious rancour. 

The literary frauds so rashly 
produced and so confidently sup- 
ported, if we give any credit to 
the accuser, were contrived and 
carried on by Severus Archon- 
tius, a learned impostor of the 
twelfth century, whose existence 
has been frequently doubted. 

Should any rational enquirer 
demand what purpose could be 
answered by imposing on the 
world fabricated productions of 
prophane writers, the reply is, 
that ancient learning and eccle- 
siastical antiquities (I mean of 
the pure primitive ages of Chris- 
tianity) were found to be great 
obstructors of Popery and tradi- 
tional imposture. 

It was therefore thought im- 
portant to shake the credit of fa- 
thers, councils, ancient his- 
torians; but to prevent any- sus- 
picion of any particular enmity 
against ecclesiastic writers only, 
it was artfully resolved first to 
disgrace profane writers, and 
when a triumph was obtained 
over polite literature, to proceed 
in a similar way with other 



branches, and finally to substi- 
tute their own base dogmas for 
the pure sterling of the primitive 
Church. 

VOTIVE SHIELD; in a 
former volume, I have re- 
corded an instance in which a 
silver one was dragged by a fish- 
erman from the bottom of the 
Rhone. 

In the early part of the 19th 
century, another precious relict 
of antiquity and of a similar 
species was dislodged from the 
earth by a farmer of Dauphiny, 
in breaking up a waste, which 
had never been cultivated. 

Having frequently been admo- 
nished by the proprietor to pay- 
particular attention to subterra- 
neous articles, the rustic imme- 
diately carried what he had found 
to his landlord. 

' This gentleman, after a little 
examination, saw the value of 
what was brought from his farm, 
and giving the man a receipt for 
half a year's rent, dismissed him, 
with strict injunctions of secresy. 
The tenant promised and kept 
his word, thinking himself richly 
paid for what he called a rusty 
old iron dish. 

The possessor of this treasure 
acting like the possessors of other 
treasures, locked it zip in his 
strong box, where it remained 
more than twenty years, when, 
in 



£40 



VOTIVE SHIELD. 



in consequence of his death, the 
box being unlocked, his heirs 
found the shield carefully clean- 
ed, and accompanied with a writ- 
ten document, containing an 
account of the manner in which 
it was discovered, and his opinion 
concerning it. 

It was well preserved, twenty- 
seven inches in diameter, and 
weighed more than twenty 
pounds ; but the ornamental parts 
were neither so well executed nor 
so highly finished, nor the figures 
in relief so numerous as those 
on the shield which had been so 
long in the bed of the Rhone. 
A lion was seen reposing under 
a palm tree, with the lacerated 
limbs of wild boars, wolves and 
other animals lying scattered 
around him. ' 

A learned man to whom T am 
indebted for a considerable por- 
tion of the present article has. 
taken great pains to prove that 
this ancient votive relict was of- 
fered by Hannibal when he con- 
, ducted a Carthaginian army into 
Italy : this opinion he supports 
by the collateral evidence of me- 
dals, on which the lion and the 
palm tree are exhibited as nation- 
al symbols of Carthage ; and by 
similar devices, on a votive shield 
of one hundred and thirty-eight 
pounds weight, found among the 
>uoils of Asdrubal, deposited af- 



ter his defeat in the Capitol, and 
accurately described by an an- 
cient writer. 

We may further observe that 
the Carthaginian Lion was 
a common appellation bestowed 
on Hannibal, and that it had 
been the frequent boast of his 
father Hamilcar, during the child- 
hood of his son, that he was nou- 
rishing a lion, who would here- 
after destroy the Roman wolves ; 
alluding either to the fabulous 
origin or the sanguinary hostility 
of the foes of Carthage. 

Should the conjecture of this 
respectable writer prove well 
founded, the circumstances I re- 
late are not a little singular; that 
the production of an African ar- 
tist and a piece of Spanish plate, 
the one wrought for a victorious 
Carthaginian conqueror, and ano- 
ther for the destroyer of Car- 
thage, should both be buried, 
one in earth, and the other under 
water, in a remote province of 
Gaul; and that at the end of 
more than two thousand years, 
they should be fortunately reco- 
vered, in a state of excellent pre- 
servation, and both be placed in 
the same collection. The sub- 
ject of my little narrative being 
considered as interesting, ge- 
nuine and curious, it was pur- 
chased and placed in the cabinet 
of the King of France : whether 
it 



WHISTON, WILLIAM. 



241 



it exists amon£ the opima spolia 
of THE EMPEROR Napoleon 
I am not qualified to say. 

WE WERE DELIGHT- 
ED ! a characteristic 
and animated passage in the dis- 
patch of a gallant English Admi- 
ral, who sent home four French 
men of war at the moment this 
volume was preparing for the 
press. 

Indeed the whole of Sir Ri- 
chard Strachan's dispatch which 
conveyed intelligence of his vic- 
tory to the Admiralty is as an 
English seaman's language ought 
to be, strongly marked with un- 
extinguishable courage ; to meet 
with an enemy* whatever the 
superiority, his first object ; to 
take, burn, sink or destroy him, 
at all risqttes, his unconquerable 
resolution. To this may be add- 
ed the modest, unassuming lan- 
guage of real worth, so different 
from French gasconade, and that 
spirit of pious gratitude, the sai- 
lor's best companion. 

WHISTON, WILLIAM, 
a native of Leicester- 
shire, a staunch Unitarian, and 
mathematical professor at Cam- 
bridge. In this post, he had 
succeeded Sir Isaac Newton, and 
tilled the chair with credit and 
ability; but failing in religious 
orthodoxy, he was prosecuted, 

VOL, IV. 



and after many friendly attempts 
to prevail on him to conform to 
the established religion of his 
country, was ultimately dis- 
missed. 

" I have been called by my 
adversaries capricious and whim- 
sical" observes the subject of this 
article, " but I defy any one to 
prove that I ever preached any 
doctrine that was not warranted 
by Scripture. If I have at any 
time been capricious or fantas- 
tical, it was never against my 
conscience and from interested 
motives. If my conduct or ap- 
pearance has ever laid me open 
to this accusation, it must have 
originated from a tendency to 
nervous diseases, to which from 
my youth I was always subject. 

" For this class of complaints, 
medical men informed me, I was 
indebted to my unceasing appli- 
cation to study; but while under 
the roof of my worthy and ex- 
cellent father, he preserved me 
in a great measure by rouzing 
me early and obliging me to 
walk four or five miles on a 
frosty morning, before I sat 
down to my books. 

" I remember particularly be- 
ing greatly alarmed with a fear 
that I should lose my eve-sight : 
as after reading a little, my eyes 
became dazzled and discharged 
a thin, acrimonious water; mv 
seeing was also considerably im- 
i i paired. 



24£ 



WHISTON, WILLIAM. 



paired. After consulting pro- 
fessional men, they recommended 
a relaxation from study, and ap- 
plied blisters behind my ears, 
but without effect. Blindness 
with all its horrors now presented 
itself to my imagination, and I 
sunk into the lowest state of ner- 
vous melancholy. 

" In this miserable condition, 
I fortunately recollected a cir- 
cumstance mentioned by Mr. 
Robert Boyle, of a person who 
had nearly lost his sight from 
reading by a glaring light and in 
a study newly white-washed, on 
which the sun shone strongly the 
greater part of the day. 

" He was advised to hang his 
book-room with green, and his 
eyes soon became better; pur- 
suing the same plan, I expe- 
rienced similar benefit. 

" At this time, mathematics 
took up eight hours of my day, 
but sick of the fictitious hypo- 
thesis of De Cartes, then all in 
vogue, I plunged at once into 
Newton's Prin^ipia, but was 
rouzed from my literary dream, 
the happiest period of my life, 
by the complaints of my poor 
mother, who was now left a wi- 
dow, w ith an income not equal 
to the support of herself and fa- 
mily. 

" I was persuaded to take or- 
ders, by Bishop Moor, Archbi- 
shop Tillotson and Dr. Lloyd, 



Bishop of Litchfield and Coven- 
try." Besides these prelates, he 
was favourably noticed by Mr. 
Locke, and associated with Dr. 
Hoadley, Bishop of Bangor and 
afterwards of Winchester. With 
such helps and a small share of 
prudence and common sen6e, he 
might have got on in the church; 
but religious scruples gradually 
arose in his mind, and he adopted 
an unrestrained mode of censur- 
ing public men and public mea- 
sures, which created him manv 
enemies, and deprived him of 
several of his friends. 

To Dr. Hoadley he once ob- 
served c( You have now received 
eight hundred pounds a year, for 
keeping primitive Christianity 
out of England ; this too for a 
period of six years, without hav- 
ing set foot in or seen your dio- 
cese; a scandalous and indecent 
example, more injurious to the 
cause of religion than the attacks 
of its most bitter enemies." If 
a man thought himself obliged 
by Christian sincerity to address 
such language to his old asso- 
ciates, we may guess in what 
style be would address his pro- , 
fessed adversaries. It is scarcely 
necessary to add that all friend- 
ship ceased between Whiston 
and the Bishop of Bangor. 

When Dr. Hoadley was after- 
wards advanced to the see of 
Winchester, his old friend did 
not 



WHISTON, WILLIAM. 



243 



not forget him. ** In direct con- 
tradiction of the laws of Christ, 
you left your first church, and 
though now advanced to a more 
lucrative bishopric, during a good 
part of the year, you abandon 
the duties or' your ecclesiastic 
office, to become a political 
member of our civil constitu- 
tion. 

" Though a very old man, and 
in express contradiction to the 
letter of the holy Scriptures, you 
have married a second time, a 
young woman. These notorious 
practices together with your in- 
judicious and unlearned Treatise 
on the Lord's Supper will hand 
you down in no very favourable 
light to posterity.' * 

ei You have no doubt heard" 
says the worthy Bishop, in a let- 
ter to a female correspondent, 
" you have heard of Mr. Whis- 
ton's bitterness against me ; ma- 
ny of his assertions are idle, all 
malignant, and many false. The 
whole of his conduct may be 
expressed in the words pious tit- 
tle-tattle. He is a mixture of 
illiberal censoriousness, fanatic 
pride and immoral zeal ; encou- 
raging himself as many wiser and 
better men do in actions which 
they condemn as inexcusable in 
others. I have since had a spi- 
ritual, satirical and recriminating 
conversation with him ; he was 



all humility, thankfulness and 
profession." 

This rude attack on the hero 
of the Bangorian controversy, 
whom we have generally been 
taught to consider as the great 
assertor of civil and religious 
liberty, did not diminish the out- 
cry Whiston had already raised 
by his paradoxes and his prophe- 
cies concerning the destruction 
of Rome and Antichrist, in which 
he was mistaken. 

He had also been an enthu- 
siastic admirer of Archbishop 
Potter, but became suddenly ex- 
asperated against him, for suffer- 
ing the Bishops to kneel before 
him when they received his bles- 
sing, at a meeting held for pro- 
pagating the Gospel. He after- 
wards criticised, and somewhat 
roughly, the forms of prayer pub- 
lished by his Grace, as mean and 
unedifying. These attacks the 
Primate bore and answered with 
moderation, imputing them to 
an old man's dotage. 

Whiston was the favourite 
scholar of Sir Isaac Newton, and 
his theory of the earth is praised 
and recommended by Mr. Locke. 
He was a learned and an honesty 
man, but wanted judgment; his 
zeal o'er -informed its tenement, 
and he knew little of the world. 
To these circumstances may be 
ascribed much of his unaccom- 
i i 2 modating 



244 



WHY DON'T YOU MARRY? 



modating spirit, even in non- 
essentials, and many of the diffi- 
culties he encountered. 

Whiston and his friend Dit- 
ton, who wrote on the longitude, 
could not escape the filthy muse 
of Swift ; he wrote on them some 
of the nastiest lines in the Eng- 
lish language, which I hope the 
good taste of future editors will 
suppress. 

WHY DON'T YOU 
MARRY > a question 
repeatedly asked of a middle- 
a£ed man, who occasionally pe- 
ruses my volumes, and whose 
celibacy originates rather from 
position and circumstance than 
From want of inclination. One 
of his reasons for continuing sin- 
gle my readers will agree is im- 
portant; he has fixed his affec- 
tions on a lady who unfortu- 
nately loves another. 

On a late occasion, and at a 
christening, being hard pressed 
on the usual subject, with a room 
full of mothers and daughters fit 
for mothers, he assumed more 
courage than he generally exhi- 
bits, and in reply to the question 
which stands at the head of th'rs 
article, sported in a chearful and 
humorous way the following 
song'. Whether the tune and 
the words were his own or the 
work of a near neighbour was 
not known ; he called it 



The Bachelor's Apology'. 

Each fool and each sage who of 

gallantry treats 
Says that love is like life, full of 

bitters and sweets. 
The matrons may blame, and 

the virgins may titter ; 
Let me have but some sweet, I 

won't mind the bitter. 

That wedlock's a pill one and all 
they cry out, 

Of digestion so hard they make 
a great rout ; 

On the subject abundance of ink 
has been 'spilt. 

I'll swallow the pill, if 'tis -pro- 
perly g$* 

Again, too, some cry that mar- 
riage is hanging, 

That who slips on the noose de- 
serves a good banging. 

To this I most humbly will ven- 
ture to speak. 

Let me choose my own gallows, 
Til venture my neck. 

It is scarcely necessary to add 
that in such a place and at such 
a time this vocal effusion was re- 
ceived with rapturous applause. 

The following are supposed to 
come from the same pen. 

The Maiden's Wish. 

May the man the Gods design 
To win this flutt'ring heart of mine 
Have 



OUTRAGEOUSLY VIRTUOUS. 



WHY DON'T YOU MARRY > 245 

Have no strange whims, no fool- 
ish fancies f Fair Probability. 
No book-worm deep in old ro- j[ fj' lnt to Women. 

manccs ; 

The choice of a husband a part- 
No sage be he to seek a star ; ner for life 
I wish him not to look so far, Is no trifle indeed let me say. 
To read his fate in vonder skies, If vour days shall be happy or 
But find it rather in these eyes. embitter'd with strife 

Is the stake which in wedlock 

May all his thoughts in me you lay. 

combine 

Who means to keep this heart Let fair probability brighten the 

of mine. scene, 

Nor rush headlong with ruin be- 

On a Notorious CoauETTE, fore ye. 

The vile debauchee ne'er can 
happiness mean, 

Boast not ladies of your virtue ; Fraud and ruin have long been 

Keep it quiet, 'twill not hurt his glory. 

you ; 

But if some poor girl is un- The man who himself underva- 

d one lues so much 

Spare your railing, don't abuse As to scorn each decorum of 

' her; life, 

Are all quite faultless who accuse Nor prudence can bind, nor con- 

her ; science can touch, 

In the trying scenes of London ? To value the peace of a wife. 

" Horrid creature/' cries Miss The Stock-Jobber, 

Clacket, A new Song9 
Making in the box a racket ; 

ie Heaven defend me from the O the pleasure of stock -jobbing; 

vermin !" 'Tis a lawful way of robbing. 

Swell'd last August in her scant- Foes abuse and friends may rally. 

ling, What delight in roaring, fight- 
She says dropsy, we say bant- ing^ 

ling. Cheating, biting, 

Doctor Midnight shall determine. I" the purlieus of the alley ? 

You 



246 



WINDHAM, the Right Hon. William. 



Ycu may hunt if you please 

Among fields and green trees ; 

But here without bridle or sad- 
dling, 

You may chace bull and bear ; 

But then have a care 

They don't lame you and send 
you home waddling 

The unsuccessful Poet. 
I courted the Muses and thought 

they were kind ; 
But 'twas a delusion I verily find. 
Whilst I thought I was cropping 

the shrubs of Parnass, 
My verses were nought, and I 

look'd like an ass. 

I design'd to have sipp'd at the 

fountain of Pindar, 
But here too the Muses stepp'd 

in and did hinder: 
And since I'm deny'd to taste of 

such cheer, 
I'll comfort my heart with some 

Dorchester beer. 

I attempted to ride on Pegasus' 
back, 

But the rascal kick'd up, and I 
fell with a smack. 

Well, since 'tis refused on High- 
flyer to go, 

1*11 trot my bay nag in fam'd 
Rotten Row. 

And since the nine virgins are 

deaf to my sighing, 
My spirits all flagging and my 

genius a dying, 



A jug of October shall give me 

fresh fury, 
And I'll seek a tenth muse in 

the lobbies of Drury. 

WINDHAM, the right 
HONOURABLE WlLLIAM, 

part of his speech in a debate 
on the motion of Mr. Lascelles, 
for voting public honours to Mr. 
Pitt, our late Chancellor of the 
Exchequer. 

" The question submitted to 
our consideration is peculiarly 
difficult and embarrassing. If 
we differ in opinion with the ho- 
nourable gentleman and with- 
hold the honours he proposes, 
under an impression that they 
have not been fairly earned, we 
shall be called penurious and illi- 
beral, we shall be accused of che- 
rishing old animosities and re- 
sentments, which in this, as in 
every other instance they ought 
to be, are I verily believe by all 
parties for ever buried in the 
grave. 

" If dazzled by the splendid 
talents of the deceased Right Ho- 
nourable Gentleman, by his un- 
compromising firmness, his sin- 
gular disinterestedness and unspot- 
ted integrity, stimulated by such 
feelings, we hurry to a precipitate 
vote, and fancy ourselves just 
when in fact we are only gene- 
rous, we shall incur the blame of 
scattering with a prodigal and 
unmetin<r 



WINDHAM, the Right Hon. William. 247 



un meting hand the wealth and 
honours of our country, and fail 
in that salutary impression which 
we wish to make on posterity. 

6 e A vote like the present is of 
the highest magnitude and con- 
sideration ; it is the last meed a 
people can bestow. The coun- 
try is called on to uphold the pall 
of a great character, to strew his 
bier with honours, and raise a 
monument to his name: but be- 
fore we agree to such a proceed- 
ing, we must have positive proof 
that the services performed were 
really important, and not of a 
speculative kind ; successful mea- 
sures, palpably evident to our 
senses at a single glance, and 
such as every man can calculate 
and value. 

w The sum total of national 
retribution is not to be paid with- 
out a careful examination of the 
account. We must not draw 
upon posterity for fame and ho- 
nour with the same facility as 
we give a cheque on our bankers. 
" Something has been hinted 
at, oni:he subject of party dif- 
ferences and former animosities ; 
I thank God, I have none. We 
have also been told that the point 
in question is a matter of feeling 
and sentiment; I protest against 
such doctrines. I never can 
consent to refine and fritter away 
my duty into a passion. I would 
correct judgment by benevolence,, 



but never suffer benevolence to 
direct my judgment. 

" Some surprize has been, 
shewn at the language I hold ; 
because I acted with the late Mi- 
nister, and sat in the same cabi- 
net with him : this is true ; but 
we were very often of different 
opinions. 

" If the present vote passes in 
the affirmative, we are establish- 
ing a dangerous precedent ; that 
because a man has served his 
country as Prime Minister, for 
twenty years, with all the digni- 
ties, emoluments and patronage 
attached to that office, he is to 
receive the highest national dis- 
tinctions. 

C( To my mind, he who serves 
it half the time, without a fin- 
ger in. the public purse, or the 
smallest beam of royal favour, 
who obstinate in his integrity, 
fights the battles of his country 
with no compensation but the 
approbation of his ewn con- 
science, is the man a nation 
should reward and applaud. 

" The noble father of the de- 
ceased Minister has been pro- 
duced as a precedent. To con- 
trast the services of the son with 
those of his parent would be un- 
pleasant, and at the present mo- 
ment ill - timed. But I could 
give you a precedent of services- 
fully equal to those of Lord 
Chatham, but for which honours 
like 



243 



WINDHAM, the Right Hon. William. 



like the present were not voted, 
although he saved the country 
from that yawning gulph, that 
deep abyss of Hell, the Fiend? 
Revolution. The saviour of his 
country ou this occasion was my 
worthy and ever estimable friend, 
the late Edmund Burke. 

ii Should I be asked to point 
out and specify precisely the 
services for which the honours 
now demanded are due, we have 
a striking example before our 
eyes, THE GLORIOUS VIC- 
TORY-OF TRAFALGAR. Of 
the value of such services no one 
can entertain a doubt ; they come 
home at once to the bosoms of 
its all ; the peasant and the Prince 
ahke feel and acknowledge them, 
and the heart of everv man throbs 
with grateful anxietv to take a 
share in rewarding them : they 
speak to the head as well as heart, 
and require no long speeches to 
explain and point them out. 

" It is on such occasions that 
we ought to open the grand re- 
serve of national honours; the 
strong box of the country should 
be touched for these alone ; but 
if we squander its precious con- 
tents, kere 9 there and every 
where, we. impair and shall ulti- 
rnatelv exhaust) we shall cheapen - 
and at last render them of no 
account. 

i( If we pay an ever-to-be- 
lamented Admiral, who destroyed 



an enemy's fleet and sacrificed 
his life for the country, if we pav 
a hero like him in the same coin 
as wJc pay a Minister, for services 
of a very doubtful nature) and 
whose effects have not yet reach - 
ed us, we rob Lord Nelson of 
half the honours which have been 
paid him. 

" Perhaps T shall be told that 
I wish to withhold these ho- 
nours from the memory of Mr. 
Pitt because he was unsuccess- 
ful. This is not wholly true; 
yet surely I may be allowed to 
observe that he was not great 
because he was unfortunate. 

" Indeed, generally speaking, 
success is no bad criterion of our 
having used the best means to 
deserve it. I agree that to be 
fortunate is not always to be vir- 
tuous; yet sapiens dominabitur 
astris ; it is the character and 
principal feature of wisdom to 
convert to its own purposes such 
materials as accident supplies, 
and to deduce support and as- 
sistance even from the caprices 
and crosses of fortune. 

" Good luck as it is com- 
monly called is little more than 
another word for good sense ; it 
is wisdom providing against un- 
toward events. 

" Let us suppose that our great. 

naval hero Lord Nelson had 

been defeated at Trafalgar; the 

public would undoubtedly have 

sympathized 



WINDHAM, the Right Hon. William. 



249 



sympathized with him; we 
should none of us have doubted 
his personal courage or his pro- 
fessional skill ; but I believe no 
one would have thought of vot- 
ing him public honours. Indeed, 
we should have thought it neces- 
sary to enquire and determine 
whether he deserved better for- 
tune, before we excused that 
which had proved so bad. 

" If, therefore, I do not pre- 
sume misconduct, from ill for- 
tune, which I do not, I may 
fairly be allowed to say, that 
it has no legitimate claim to 
extraordinary honours and Re- 
wards. 

" I will not attempt to dimi- 
nish the merits of our deceased 
statesman as a provident finan- 
cier; though it might be ob- 
served that he who had so much 
augmented, probably felt it his 
duty to provide means for dimi- 
nishing our national debt. 

" It was said of a celebrated 
Roman Emperor, that he found 
Rome built of brick, but left it 
at his death a city of marble. 
These words of an ancient histo- 
rian have been applied by an ho- 
nourable Member to Mr. Pitt, 
with respect to the public funds, 
but I would propose a translation 
of them not exactly so liberal, 
" he found the treasury abounding 
in gold, and left in it nothing but 
paper." On this subject, I could. 

vol. iv. 



say more, but it is not my wish 
to irritate and inflame. 

(( I will trespass no longer on 
the patience of the house, and 
shall conclude with observing, 
that I think the obligations we 
owe to those dauntless heroes 
now employed in the more splen- 
did and dangerous services of 
their country, and our regard to 
our own fame and to posterity, 
require us to resist the motion 
now made by the honourable 
gentleman." 

My readers need not be told 
that the majority differed in opi- 
nion with Mr. Windham. 

Had the editor of this collec- 
tion been present at the debate, 
and sat as a Member of the 
House of Commons, he fears he 
should have voted with the mi- 
nority, on the urgent and unde- 
niable plea, that in our present 
circumstances and bleeding as 
we are at every pore, all expences, 
except those absolutely essential 
to defence and existence should 
be avoided. 

In answer to the arguments 
which operated on many, and 
were deduced from the deranged 
circumstances and debts of Mr. 
Pitt, it may be observed that the 
national purse ought not to be 
opened on such occasions. Eve- 
ry MAN WHO KNOWS HIS IN- 
COME, HOWEVER HIGH HIS 
RANK OR SPLENDID HIS ENDOW-.. 
K k MENTS. 



25b 



ZARINE. 



MENTS, SHOULD PROPORTION 
HIS MODE OF LIVING TO IT. 

To pay the creditors of those, 
who follow an opposite conduct, 
is holding forth honour and re- 
ward to thoughtlessness and im- 
prudence. 

ZARINE, a Queen of the 
Scythians, who reigned 
over that warlike people nearly 
seven hundred years before the 
birth of Christ, and at a period 
when their conquests extended 
over the greater part of Asia. 

To beauty and good sense Za- 
rine added the political sagacity 
of a statesman, the military qua- 
lifications of a hero, and the un^ 
sullied chastity of a saint. 

Soon after the death of her 
father, the young Queen was en- 
gaged in a war with the Me- 
dians, which demanded a stre- 
nuous exertion of all the powers 
she possessed, mental, corporal 
and moral. 

The forces of her enemy the 
King of Media were commanded 
by Stryanges, his favourite Ge- 
neral, to whom, as a reward for 
past services, he had given one 
of his daughters in marriage. 

Skill, courage and courtesy 
were eminently displayed in a 
campaign conducted by a prin- 
cess so highly endowed, and a 
General who was considered not 
only as a master in the art of 



war, but as the handsomest and 
most accomplished man of the 
age in which he lived. 

The troops of Zarine being 
inferior in number to the Medes, 
it was her wish to avoid engag- 
ing till an expected reinforce- 
ment arrived ; but the superior 
address of her adversary forced 
her to a disadvantageous battle, 
in which, after a long and well- 
fought day, Zarine was defeated, 
arid in a personal rencounter 
with Stryanges himself, actually 
thrown from her horse. 

In falling, the helmet and 
plume which covered her head 
and confined her hair dropping 
off, discovered to the conqueror 
a face which it was not safe to 
look at, and luxuriant auburn 
locks, which reaching to her 
waist sported with the wind. 

The situation it must be con- 
fessed was interesting and criti- 
cal. Instantly dismounting, he 
raised Zarine from the ground, 
and after affording every help 
and consolation in his power to 
his lovely captive, he was him- 
self enslaved. 

Detesting the idea of taking 
violent possession of her person, 
which the laws of war and the 
custom of that country would 
have justified, he accompanied 
the Queen to hen capital, placed 
her on the throni^she had for- 
feited, and endeavoured to inspire 
her 



ZARINE. 



251 



rrer with that passion he felt so 
powerfully himself. But though 
Stryanges forgot his duty as a 
father and a husband, and Zarine 
was strongly affected by the man- 
ly person, fine countenance, and 
gentle manners of her conque- 
ror, this excellent woman did not 
lose sight of nor shrink from the 
trying and difficult part she had 
to act. 

**■ Could I prevail on myself," 
said the Queen, during one of 
the conversations in which the 
Median General was pressing to 
be heard, iC could I prevail on 
myself to yield to that bewitch- 
ing, softness which I feel myself 
alas! too much inclined to in- 
dulge, your triumph would be 
short and unsatisfactory; the re- 
sentment of that amiable prin- 
cess who is the partner of your 
bed and the vengeance of her 
incensed father, your royal mas- 
ter, would bring down speedv and 
inevitable ruin on your head; the 
glory you have already acquired 
would also be tarnished, and 
Stryanges the good, the brave, 
and the all- accomplished, whose 
praise is the universal theme, 
■would be proclaimed to present 
and future generations as a vi- 
olator of his plighted faith, 
>& traitor to his King and coun- 

" Ah, Siff let us meet no 
more. I am sensible that to 



you I owe my honour, my life, 
and my kingdom; but I trem- 
ble when I reflect on the calami- 
ties, to which a departure from 
the imperious law of duty will 
expose you. 

" We must meet indeed no 
more. The weakness of human 
resolution and the struggles in 
my breast between gratitude and 
honour, in every interview with 
my conqueror and benefactor, 
who has treated me not only with 
generosity, but scrupulous deli- 
cacy and dignified decorum, 
point out the propriety of this 
resolution, so absolutely neces- 
sary for your preservation, and 
my peace. 

" Your honour and welfare 
shall be no longer endangered. 
Had there indeed been no impe- 
diment, I do not scruple con- 
fessing, that in a cottage or on a 
throne, my conqueror alone, of 
all the world, should have posses- 
sion of my hand and heart; but 
to enjoy them at the expence of 
purity and peace is a penalty we 
must not pay. 

" Let us now separate, and 
confirm the salutary resolution 
we have taken," continued Za- 
rine, wishing to persuade herself 
that Stryanges agreed with her 
in opinion. <c To dissolve an 
attachment like ours will require 
time and fortitude : but that 
Power, which for wise purposes 
k k 2 planted 



252 



ZINGIS. 



planted strong passions in our 
bosoms, has given us reason and 
capacity to resist them, when in- 
dulgence would lead to misery 
and degradation. 

iC Again, farewell. Be as- 
sured, that you have not a kinder 
or more grateful friend than the 
captive you so generously res^ 
cued from death and disgrace, 
and that the proof now given is 
the most painful effort of her life. 

" Persevere in your glorious 
career of virtue and glory. May 
Heaven shower down its choicest 
blessings on your head." 

With these words Zarine re- 
tired, and passed the night in so- 
litude and silence, supported by 
soothing reflections on the tri- 
umph she had gained ; a con- 
quest, w ; hen we consider the try- 
. ing situation in which she was 
placed, which Ceesar and Alex- 
ander might have looked on with 
envy ; a. victory which they could 
not atchieve. This admirable 
woman had overcome an enemy 
to which the Macedonian and the 
Dictator were inglorious slaves. 

Torn by contending passions, 
disappointed in his fondest hopes, 
and feeling that Zarine's argu- 
ments'were unanswerable, Stry- 
an&es was conducted to his pa- 
lace, but considering life as in- 
sufferable without the object of 
his wishes, in the fury of licen- 
tious passion, or the insanity of 



guilty despair, he planted a dag* 
ger in his heart. 

This short but affecting nar- 
rative may be condemned as an 
effusion of fiction and romance, 
but it is authenticated as firmly, 
and as unequivocally supported as 
any historical fact, by a chain of 
direct and collateral evidence, 
which, has been accurately exa- 
mined and minutely detailed by 
a modern critic, of deep learn- 
ing, remarkable for the scrupu- 
lousness of his belief and a con- 
stitutional tendency to suspicion 
and doubt. - 

ZINGIS, the inhuman con- 
queror of China, and called, 
according to the hypothesis of cer- 
tain divines, the Scourge of God. 
The conduct of this barba- 
rian, who wasted by fire and 
sword almost a third part of the 
habitable world, is known to 
most general readers. My rea- 
son for mentioning so blood- 
thirsty a tyrant in this place is 
to notice the singularity of a 
modern writer, who calls Zingis 
an unitarian, affects to speak 
gravely of his political institu- 
tions, and coolly compares the 
religious opinions of a savage, 
who boasted that he had des- 
troyed four millions of men, 
women and children, with the 
pure theology ar& conciliating 
philosophy of the amiable Locke. 



END OF THE FOURTH VOLUME. 



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